I write not for the whims of entertainment of humanity, but because I wish to inflict upon the ignorant views they so gallantly resist.

  Am I a dreamer, or a realist? A dreamer see's only what awes the mind and soul. Realist's are known for their appalling notice of good and evil. Then what, I ask, do you make of a realist who dreams of a better world?

  There's a saying that says, "you cannot unsee the truth."

This infatuation with either a realist, or a dreamer is a dangerous path, indeed. To much dreaming and one becomes subjected to an ever-growing need for more. Quite the opposite becomes apparent for a realist, there is a darkness nestled so firmly in the soul that joy is a mere extre in the scene. It, joy, is needed only for comparison.

  I live my life in shades of grey. There is no wondrous warmth within my heart nor, a pit of darkness. The pleasures and perils that suffice are growth and the struggle to obtain it. To call me a wanderer is an over-compensation and to justify those means by the amount of settling I have done, is the essence of limitation.

  The word I have found that captures the meaning of who I am, is simply-a paradox.