On some nights... Would you not lie troubled, unable to sleep. To think of the failures in life and the differences you could have made. Is your life worth living, those ideals questioned countlessly by others. Is it so difficult to be common? To write of how the days were spent. Often a conflagration of thoughts, barely written of the trespasses in the day.

But it is only required isn't it?

Sacrifice.

I have told friends, that my spirit is dying. All that fighting, all that passion, all riven and battered against the indifferences in the world.

"Yet a life without virtue, is not worth living..."

I have seen people whom their friends wrote well of yet they are failing in every commending details which they are praised for. Is it hypocrisy that one would wish well for their sport and yet maintain an 'elitist' attitude towards any who challenge the norm. Is society not born of advances? I read before that 'the reasonable man adapts himself to the world... and the unreasonable man forces the world to adapt to him'. What gives, what changes. To deny change is to destroy possible advancements. That, will be the death to civilisation.

Would I be a hypocrite, to advocate and write in private of the many virtues one should hold and yet not practice them?

Would very much sound human. Even humane.

Would you read in scorn then, knowing that I am not who I appear to be, friend and foe.