I'm done... It's done.
After 3 to 4 long years of reading it, it is done and I am done.

Project Horizons... What A ride.
1.6 million words, 4 years and two months in the making.

It saddens me deeply to see it over but as the story itself has said, everything ends, that's how you know it was so good in the first place.

About 1/3 of the epilogue was kinda meh IMO but the rest was fantastic.

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Life is like one big massive forest, with rivers and lakes and heavy under growth.

Each person starts at one end and gets to the other, And we all build our own path.

We build bridges for the rivers, boats for the lakes, and we cut away the under growth to build a path.

Now you could just follow another person's path and take the easy way, or you could forge your own path and live life your own way.

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The greater turned guard.

Here stands the green woman tall,
in her hand she holds a torch, and in the other a slab.
Once did she beckon to those whose lands did outcast them,
to come to this new land.
Her land.

Now that ideal is but a shattered form of what it once was,
For now instead of freedom she calls for order,
and instead of liberty she stands for safety of her own.
Where as she was once our welcoming party,
she is now our guard.

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Once upon a nighttime dreary, as I web-surfed weak and wherry,
Over a many and wondrous sites of shitty memes galore,
As I nodded, nearly smacking my head on the desk, there came a little pest,
I wiped my screen, I wiped it up clean. But the pest, it so did seem, did not wipe away,
'Tis not possible' I muttered, 'Go the fuck away!'

Quoth the comment "Its just a period you stupid fuck!"

-Skot M Broham

But this is ok.

He was old and I had made peace with that fact some time ago.
But no matter how ready you may think you are, when the thing that you've been prepared for happens, its so much more painful then you thought it would be.

But I'm ok.
Hes ok.

The world is ok. It will never be the same, but its ok.

To wherever he may be now: be safe, be strong, be happy.
And if you feel like it, wait up for me.

Its sad that people don't talk/write of America like they did in the days of old.
The beauty of the time is lost. The twinkle in the eye is gone.
Her Arm is tired and sore. Her banner is tattered and warn.
But yet, for some reason, she stands on.

"Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name

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They say that the mind of a child is a beautiful thing.
Innocent and creative.
Well I like to think that the child's mind doesn't change as we get older, It just gets a few coffee stains. And some people just have a few more stains then others.

Every moment we have with the ones we love is a gift in and of itself.

Sometimes we take this gift for granted and never fully appreciate how special it is until its gone. And when its gone we only have ourselves to blame for not appreciating and cherishing it more.

The gift of life is a terrible thing to waste, love it now while you still can, it will not wait for you to see how wonderful it truly is.

So after spending the last two weeks or so writing a story, I have discovered my thinking process when I write.

1: I'm at this point but I need to get to this point, so how much shit can I put between the two points?
2: Yeah! YEAH! THIS IS GOOD! (as i'm making each and every word up as I go)
3: I read it...
4: Fix a few things
5: Add a few things
6: Read
7: Cry
8: Fix a few things
9: Happy
10: Add a few more things
11: Inner monologue:
Good.
Bad.
Good.
Bad.
It will work.

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The only ones who know anything are the ones who know that they know nothing.