Everybody dies alone, but does everybody live alone? Which is worse, which is more likely? The morally ambiguous protagonist who glides through the murky alleyway of good and evil, all leather jacket clad, blowing smoke out of a smug mouth. Revenge is personal, and by extension, selfish. Can redemption be selfish? A solitary consumption to alienate, isolate into the secure realm of self fulfilling prophesy. The unanswered questions which form our personalities, our later choices and affirmations about the world, in which we were are the tiniest of significance. Looking up, surrounded by the expansive black we are our choices. Everything leads to now, a swirling mass of the was and the maybe and the no. People and loyalties lie in different directions. We get torn asunder while we pray for thunder. It all comes down around us.
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