Excerpt 2 from Of Crowns and Daggers

What a silly race we are, hoping and dreaming in a place we somehow perceive to be a land of possibility. Then, you hit the course surface of rock bottom. Only then do you realize that you have been falling all along. Yet through the broken bones and shattered dreams you find your voice.

You could use to call for help or reconciliation with reality but no, all you want to do is feel that effortless pull of gravity, that shrill rush of happiness- the false hopes of tomorrow. So the pathetic, whimpering face of humanity climbs back up the rocky slopes of shallow selfishness only to fall once more and call on the unreliable whims of fate to take it to the bottom again.


I would not fall. I had taken refuge in fields of rock bottom





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