Old stories have a habit of being told and retold and changed. Each subsequent storyteller puts his or her mark upon it. Whatever truth the story once had is buried in bias and embellishment. The reasons do not matter as much as the story itself.

I do not like sitting idly by when something clearly isn't right. I feel... not trapped but something like it, and I don't know what to about.

Trespassers Will Be Exsanguinated.

I don't have any particular rituals, I sometimes like to write in longhand when I'm searching for ideas but I do the vast majority by typing, I can't always keep up with my thoughts longhand. I'm not a coffee shop writer because I feel obliged to order more coffee and then I end up over-caffeinated.

I mean only that I hope they find darkness or paradise without fear of it, if they can.

But dreams have ways of turning into nightmares.

Perhaps it is controlling the chaos within more than the chaos without.