An apology to all the citizens of earth: every human and animal and living and non-living thing. To each and every molecule on this planet, I apologize that for not doing better. I take the state of the world personally–perhaps it is presumptions, but how can, as part of it, one not? The alternative, detachment or declaring absolution of the world, is far more frightening to me: reality is not a windowpane and we treat our surroundings as such at our own peril.

So I apologize for not doing better. The weight of the world rests on my impotent shoulders and, I imagine, the shoulders of many others. Perhaps, had I not compounded mistakes, this rusty dream could've been to save the world, not become an animator...It's this kind of rabbit hole of thinking I frequent these days, and it spurs one into a desire to do better by the lashing whip of the ghost of the past.

This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

Despite desire, feelings, days fly and failure mounts even higher. The lips are dry, not even a dribble foments from them. Each day grows harder than the last, it's the way of warm Januaries...'circumstances must change,' I think and become buried in my situation.

[https://i.imgur.com/oKn7cCk.jpg]

[https://i.imgur.com/9XbOj0A.jpg]

[https://i.imgur.com/FiyyCys.jpg]

Not really a ten minute pose if it's broken into three, is it? But thirty minutes is thirty minutes and not a second more, each day barely but indefatigably crossing the finish line.