The woods spread out before her; a never ending maze of trees, moss, mysterious creatures, and a heavy silence. Heart beating fast, and only giving a quick glance back, she forced herself to run straight into what could possibly be the death of her.

Whatever, the beginning of stories, the middle of stories, the end of stories. There really isn’t. Meh.



I feel like I’ve disappeared. I don’t exist and no one knows who I am — who I was. I might as well have died for all the existing I do. I rather I had.

This is excruciating.