I am the narrator. I am the voice of the unspoken.

The eb and flow of life carries people along with no effort required to move themselves from beginning to end, from start to finish, from birth to death. We can influence our paths but have no control over our speed or real direction. This river carries us along unbeknownst to the masses but I've seem to have become stuck. Stuck in a place of self reflection, self loathing, self remembrance. What are we more then ships that sail the sea of time? Am I anything anymore? If I am not moving do I exist? If I am not breathing am I dead?

These questions plague me and eat away at the very core of my psyche. I can observe others and live vicariously through their triumphs and defeats. I can see the paths others have come from and where they are going. The choices they make as they oscillate to the patterns of time itself. I can see the threads that connect people, the threads that bring them happiness, the threads that are their own undoing. I am the narrator. I am the voice of the unspoken.

What we have here is the loss of something precious. The loss of something we take for granted. The loss of ones past. What if you could no longer live by your past mistakes? What if you were reduced to the core of your being and stripped of everything precious in your life? What if you were forced to live based on things that were going to happen?

--Jack's unspoken demons