One must, as they look out at the world, wonder what point, if any, lies behind the repititious events that beset, and at times waylay, those around me with both sorrow and contentment. I do not understand either reaction to said events, more over do I not understand why anyone could be content with accomplishing nothing by doing much. Then again, in light of that, I also must note that I no longer understand how one gains contentment from any events inwhich happen with in their lives. All events, no matter how decent or horrid, pass by, and in the end are simply memmories to regret, enjoy, or mourn. Nothing in life ever lasts long enough for one to obtain any true joy from it. A day, week, month... or even a year, is not enough time to live through an event and obtain any lasting contentment from it, and I have realized that no matter how hard I try, nothing in this life will last beyond tomorrow, let alone a year or more. Nothing is of interest any more, though games I play often with others are a distraction from my mind, a place inwhich dwelling has grown more and more rending to one's self. As I reflect upon the events of my life, or upon the events of the day, I grow steadily along the path inwhich points towards the fact that nothing brings joy any more. Even those things inwhich I once held dear, seem distant, and unreachable, luring me to strive for them restlessly, only to be pulled from my grasp when I finally touch them. The briefest of touch is all I am allowed of content. A meer hour upon a lake as the sun was setting; violet, blue, and other prismatic hues shone across the water top, and for the briefest of moments I was lead to believe that I could indeed find something to smile about, more than a platitude to keep others happy. Less than four hours later, things changed once more, and as the world turned through the night, my situtation returned to the state inwhich it had rested for neigh four years before... sensing this is far too long for any one to believe, to truly believe, that there is nothing for them to look foward to in the following days. I have traveled the world, the entire world, from one ocean to another, across all seven continents, and nearly one hundred countries, but never have I found either this kingdom they call heaven, or that inwhich is ruled by the fates. As read, the castle of these creatures, a towering structure of dreams and gems, lies beyond the farthest shore from which man lives, near a crystaline sea. Though I have seen many a crystaline sea, never have I found a castle of such likeness, and once more I return home. Having left a child, I return as a child, never will I assume to claim the title of 'man'... for like my father, I am unworthy of such a respect. As I watch the world, laughing faces of all kinds, whether in true humor or in cruel mockery, I feel as if they laugh at me. An incarnation of the fates, in their kingdom upon the shores of a sea inwhich I cannot find, as they toy with their game upon my life. A cruel twist of reality, sending me spirialing into the nothingness inwhich is my heart... the only solace... knowledge that one day I shall die, whether by an act of another, or by my own hands, and upon that day, shall the game inwhich torments me so end.