Most of the time I wish i am in the fantasy world. I dont know what am I doing in this complex reality, what is my purpose being here? Even as a journalist, what is my purpose? To write? to inform? to investigate? To tell the truth? But for who? and How? If I were to write on something that I care most, and readers doesnt care much, then what is next? and if I were to write what reader wants to read, and its not my passion of topic, than what am I?
There is never a two way about things. I know that, and you know that. Sometimes we help people, they might never help us back. Its the same thing with dreams. It is just the matter of choice. We are alone. In this life and in the next, and nothing will change.
Only, future will be darker for everyone. Fire will be burning, and its not the kind of fire that shows the way. Its fire that burns, that enslave the souls. Death will rise up, people go hungry, children.... cannibal... live in chains... what more would there be?
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