I do not speak with my mouth but when I talk, I do so with my hands and eyes. Though I hide them beyond reason, I confess myself a slave to the unknown. Long ago have I lost my touch with reality and only my unsatisfied desires remain. I have forgotten how to speak, how to smile, and even how to laugh. I don't get out much, you wouldn't either in a city full of zombies. They too are slaves. Slaves to what the world deems acceptable. I tend to live in the past. I resent the path to which humanity has chosen. I'm hopeful that someday, in the near future, I would move to a place with ties to the past. Hopefully, it won't be after I pass on. I love all things old and antique. But because of my curiosity, I sometimes lust over the new things.

I live a world of fantasy and nightmares that threaten to unhinge my mind. Do exercise caution though, if I speak, I sometimes forget how to be nice.