My ego was my source of refuge and I am proud to say that it is my home. At times when crisis knocks at my doorstep, the door and the walls protect me even from the horrors of the world that budge through like a storm that challenges the house’s foundations. The more I treated it as a home, the more it grew into a castle and with it are fortifications that are meant to repel invaders from plundering. I build walls to protect what is within even if it was useless. Gold is just a rock yet people died for it, so too are thoughts. My thoughts are just machinations of my corporal self, my brain gone hay wired. Why give it importance? It will not stand the test of time and it will fade. Worst, what is its use when the world will end? There will be no one to hear them and also, even if I were to put them to ink, it will be forgotten. Far more disastrous is being misinterpreted. Maybe, we all are not meant to go beyond our lifetime. It is best for us to simply be at the moment
History shall continue to unfold, and my history shall end when I no longer unfold.