It feels like it's a void, slowly sucking the life blood of dreams. It's as though every thought or idea becomes cloudy, and uninspired; so dim are the plots we toss around. They bear no weight, seeing as few care to take the time or effort to accomplish such actions.
Hopelessness.
I'm not approaching the sensation by any means, but it is disheartening to be surrounded by it. It's as though the appending epidemic has happened; the widespread plague of spirit and dreams. Who would of known that the apocalypse wasn't all fire and lightning? It is burning, though, a slow and agonizing death for all mankind. The virus to be desensitized, and to be demoralized.
I hope there are more out there's willing to pick up arms against it. I hope people continue to build homes, not just houses.
I hope there's still heart out there.
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