But do we really live? To live without knowing what life is - is that living?

To narrate is to create, for living is just being lived.

I bear the wounds of all the battles I avoided.

I am the outskirts of some non-existent town, the long-winded prologue to an unwritten book. I'm nobody, nobody. I don't know how to feel or think or love. I'm a character in a novel as yet unwritten, hovering in the air and undone before I've even existed, amongst the dreams of someone who never quite managed to breath life into me.

Stones in the road? I save every single one, and one day I'll build a castle.

I'm the empty stage where various actors act out various plays.

I carry my awareness of defeat like a banner of victory.