Stunned momentarily by the view, you stand staring at a realm seemingly
infinite. A world of mirrors, of reflections, of innermost selves. A world of
despair.

Endless walls of reflections surround you, uncertain to whether it is a room, a
hallway, or even another world entirely that you are standing in. But one thing
is for certain. That you are in Despair. In the very heart of Despair, where
every cry, scream and agony is given birth.

You come to a fork, one such as the many you have journeyed passed so often
in the course of your existence. A crossroad of choices, leading to the
unknown, choices which once are made are irreversible.

Having made the choice of path, forsaking the opportunity of another for this
path, you journey to a turn in the path. Thoughts race through your mind, what
have you sacrificed for the choices you have ever made, as with the choice of
the other path for this path. Perhaps its all for naught.

A path straightforward, yet. Its destination unavoidable, confining you to
its boundaries. Be it for good or for the worst, its passengers are forced to
accept it. There is no choice, there is no hope.

A turn in the path. One unexpected yet expected, as turns are always there in
paths. Turns unwanted, undesired that are to be obeyed, for stepping off the
path leads to even worse destinations.

Why do all paths leads to emptiness, to despair? Why is all things in the
end end in despairm in emptiness? It is because there is nothing. There is only
despair at the end of the road. She awaits you.

The tombs, resting place for which will soon rot to nothing. Thus it ends.
And all comes here in its end. Amounting to nothing, only despair.
You are blind. You see nothing. There are only feelings of direction and a
sense of your surroundings. And there is nothing.

Life, often spoken off as sweet, kind, wonderous. Yet how many living really
open their eyes to see? To see the callousness, the misery, the pain and
injustice of life. How many have the courage to have his eyes opened! The
despair of life itself.

Relationships, the causes of the many fronts we all have to invent and to wear
at all times. The images that has to be precisely projected, least one becomes
the laugh stock. The pain and the utter humilation from a failed image. True
self is worst.

The lies of images to put worn at all times, the strain it has on ones' true
self. The stress, the preasure of image. Revealing ones' true identity is
unthinkable. The consequences of being an outcast, the finger-pointing, the
looks.

Family, they are but means of survival. To a certain point in time. Then they
transform and becomes parasites of your life, adding to the dismay that is
already threatening to tear you apart.

The stories of love, great and romantic. But, thats all they ever are and will
be, mere stories, fairy tales to give false hopes, dreams to the foolish. It
plants the seed deep within each of its victims. When the time is ripe, it
springs out in full bloom feeding on the pain and agony of love lost.

Mere gimmicks of the society, the icing on the awaiting vicious beast, love.
There are countless lies that hides its true form, the form that springs thorns
from all angles, poised to strike at any unsuspecting and hopeful victims,
brainwashed by the lies of stories of love.

People, wolves in sheeps' clothings, all of them are. Leeches that seeks out
each and every opportunity to gain from one another no matter the price the
other has to pay. Misery, pain, even death of the other means nothing, only
gains has a voice amongst people.

The purposes of gifts, momentor and token. They are there to remind the
recipent that he or she owes the giver. It is a boon, a demand, even a warning.
Gifts conveys all these messages.

The tale, complaint, woe that lies behind each gift. The thoughts, feelings,
misery of the giver to wards the recipent. The shout of anger, wrapped in
beautiful ribbons, patiently waiting for the gains it expects for the gift.
Gifts being the deposit or trade of benefits.

All things, be material or immaterial, they crumble to dust one final day. The
chase, the effort, the sacrifices for such finite and limited society deemed
neccessities, are they actually worth the pain?

Assets that we gather to ourselves over the years. Things both material and
immaterial. The time and effort, mental and physical energy, all spent in the
rat race for assets. Imagine the despair in failure, then imagine that despair
you have given to so many who has failed in competition with you.

To have one who succeeds, there has to be a failure. Consider the failures you
have forced down the throats of others to attain your own success! The lives
you have destroyed both conciously and unconciously. The success you leeched
off on the misery of others!

It shows nothing.

There is nothing.

They are nothing.

They prove nothing.

They amount to nothing.

They've given nothing.

It has nothing.

It leads to nothing.

Be surrounded by the despair that is real and has always been there.

Fall deep into Despair and relish in her embrace.