Go

Whittling down the existence of being a writer I have found myself at a decision which will shift my life forever. Live out the melancholy and cliché existence of the addicted and addicting man. Drowning in self-loathing and burdened with an ego so large that Atlas would have a hard day at work holding it up. Or fall into the listless existence that it is to be living in the middle. A plethora of meaning and living, or a listless existence filled with happiness.