Where I started, I can't say. Where everything changed. Everyday, every breath I took, nothing seemed real, but in that time, I could taste what I miss, myself, my longing, the lonewolf within, and each day, I grow colder, losing all sense of this reality I've made my home. My friends, were a dream, my thoughts, like needles, pricking at the skin, and I healed over my scars, new ones forming on them, I felt sick, lost in a spinning world of madness. This is Hell. But I survive, whether it be alone, or together with myself. I am the strength I need, I rely on everyone else, it confused me, as if I had nothing to lose. I can feel, again. Something, almost new. But yet not. I'm hollow inside, everything let loose, I feel the pain I missed, the long cries of freedom, myself, I will never know what I can be, unless I've broken away, and that I have, but in return, I lost who I was. And once would've been. But that, is slowly coming back, and as I stare at the confines of world, nothing is real anymore. I don't have a feeling left for myself, but I care of myself in the same way, as if I erased the pain I felt so long ago, the fear of not know a place where I belong. It was never the way I thought it would be. I stand alone, colors fading, pain starting in, fear reset to nothing, I have nothing to lose, for I have lost everything. I will stand alone, but beyond my own help. Someone has let me free, and that someone, is myself, now, I feel what I know of, I taste the fear we know. I am. I am someone to change this land. I am the enigma we all wait on.

Stepping out into the light of day, the sun rays beating down on my face, a dream emerged from the start. I woke up each, all the same, awaking to the moment where I was at rest, and slowly went away that moment, just as the reality hit me. Another morning. Another damn day I had to survive in. One more day, I kept on saying, One more moment then I can go. But ya know what? It never came, just like when I had the perfect dream of waking next to the one who cared, the one whom I lived with in the little house on the hill, with the white fence. But you know what? In all the years I've lived in, I know that I will never see that perfect dream. Perfection is next to impossible. Just like understanding me. Oh sure, there's that cold bastardness of myself, always a cocky grin on my face, hell, so I'm a bastard. But what you don't know, and don't see, isn't always, what you feel.

Take another's life, and in return, it will begin somewhere else. I'm not alone. Yea, ok, so maybe I am, but still you wait, by the time I'm forgotten, another will know me. Everything, my story, why? Well, that's simple enough, only because they are living it themselves. Sometimes, I want to break away, to end. But something keeps me here, just something, and no, it's not that I know what "is" at home, not much there left. Sure, go on, tell me to go home, I'll go, really, but one question............ which home? Got you there right? Just kidding, what is home? There isn't anything left. War. All came to soon, but that was a different matter.

By now, your asking my point. And my point is that you've learned something by now. Although, you read this as I speak to you, this nothing more than what you've made of it. This is my story, but unsteady and loosely put as it is. Just look between the lines, this is my whole story, all summed up, but I'm not finished, oh no, not yet.

~From An Enigma, I speak~ ~You hear, I talk.~ ~You Don't Hear, But see, you do~ ~Everything will change.~ ~Just Wait~