Tick tock, tick tock
Counting down the time
I have left on this rock.
My heart is a bomb
That beats like a drum
Any moment, it could cease
Stopping the clock's run.
My mind is a machine
That records what is seen
It waits for the day
The bomb blows off steam.
My body is a clock
Tick tock, tick tock
Bringing me ever closer
To my escape from this rock.
Well your art certainly is worth living for.
As for why you're here, that's an easy one. There is no reason. You have to MAKE a reason to be here in order to give your life and your decisions worth. It is only the decisions that we make for ourselves that hold any worth for us.
Well neither was I, and I'll never mean to be here until I give myself meaning.
That's what I'm trying to say. None of us belong here until we carve our destinies out for ourselves. I will care for every life that is snuffed prematurely, because I see that as my purpose. To write the lives no one believes in. To mourn the deaths of those not meant to die.
I've been told I take on grief for things that are not my fault. I disagree. I may not be able to save everyone. I don't plan to save everyone. I plan to save ANYONE who needs it when I can. If that means taking on sorrows that are not mine, if that means writing even when my fingers are gone, if that means lingering after death to ensure the victims are given peace, I will do so gladly.
Because I don't have to. I want to.
It's not optimism, it's adaptation.
I have a very overactive imagination. So oftentimes it will feel like I'm LIVING rather than imagining something. Like say taking a sniper shot dirt nap. Or finding my brother kidnapped by his genetic father. Or getting stabbed. Or having my tools taken from me permanently. Or having everything I've created over my lifespan go up in an instant.
I am pretty pessimistic believe it or not, but I'm also fairly stubborn and I've lived with this my whole life. I've gotten over it. I'd rather make my life mean something to ME than to someone else. But I'd still like to entertain people nonetheless.
Strength is relative. Your power determines your fate. No one is truly weak. They are only inept.
I have a nice little island where everything I encounter lives myself.
Of course, nothing stays there permanently...and I really get tired of the villains plotting my destruction (it's 3 in the morning! give it a rest!)[Not really, actually about 8:21]