I write this somewhat of an essay on August 1st 2024, 1 month before I'll die. This will happen somewhere in September 13, I haven't choosen an exact date yet.

All my life I spent in a shadow of solitude, there was a glimmer of light once but it has gone as quickly and suddenly as it appeared. Even though my past contains within itself countless mistakes and disappointments I do not regret any of them, not anymore. All those missteps and failures have made me who I am at the current moment of time, grim acceptance is all they deserve.

After being born and spending most of my life in filth and degeneracy of this insipid world I refused to give in to its monotonous way of life, instead I've discovered a much better, different alternative - the world of dreams. Sadly, even with rich imagination I'm incapable of creating my own dreams from scratch, after countless failures I had no other choice but to accept this unfortunate circumstance. Though it matters not for I have found myriad of books and video games which could easily compensate that flaw of my mind. I've been through so many wonderfull worlds, witnessed so many various fates, felt so many new colourful emotions I had no hope to experience in the achromatic reality.

What is the cause of my future(or already happened, depending on when you read this) death? It is not the desperation but rather a growing fatigue. Even the most adventurous dreamer has to wake up someday. Even the most impressive dreams can not free the mind from inexorable fatigue that nurtures itself relentlessly until your one and only wish is to close your eyes and never open them again. There is nothing I can do but to anticipate that final moment of my life when I will at last close my eyes and life won't be able to call me again.