Bonsoir, mes ches lecteurs! (I do believe no one reads this stuff, but hell, it doesn't hurt to be polite, does it?). The future begins to darken up a bit, enough to quell my worries. But, alas, the worries are back. A passing idea on a new place to call home drove me to fret once more. Income insufficient, future uncertain. And I bloody hate this feeling, specially when I find myself still living at someone else's while my 22nd birthday draws closer yet. And to be honest, I'm afraid, yet I have no choice but to push harder up the hill and hope I don't trip in the way. See, what I fear is not that work exceeds me, but that it doesn't. I have now come to understand how my father feels.
Very well then, let's continue the struggle. In the meantime, I will leave you with this particular quote (Bonus points to the one who tells me where I took it from and who the quotee is).
"Time is the fire in which we burn"
And now I retreat to the comfort of my subconscious.