It’s been done before.

And the truth that hurts the most, is that most of the time the truth is ugly, and is far to ugly to exist in pure form.

Only the things that can happen do happen, miracles are, by definition, meaningless.

In the end all we can hope for is a brighter shade of grey, and add our own color for filler. The idealist is short lived, but the struggle encompasses everything, and never ends.

Love is the only thing that seems to be truly without reason. Hate is calculable, and well defined. Life is savagry but love fails to ever come full circle. This is why it matters most.

The question of how we got here doesn’t matter nearly as much as where we are. Frames of reference don’t have to come from the past or the grand scope.

The stereotypical hero truly is the least interesting.