Thinking to himself, he wondered, why it mattered so much? He is a loose cannon on his way to his destination, You see we are mortals to this world just as everyone else.

He always considered himself as an intellectual individual. Yet he simply couldn't put his finger on the point of addiction to intimacy, no night seems complete in lonesomeness.

Some say he is comfortable, others feel as if anywhere he is he doesn't fit in, a person lost in time. Trying so desperately to get to that point.

The point where he can just forget that there isn't a significant time or place to be, and at that second he deceived himself into understanding the fact that he is where he needs to be, in a loss.