So it begins. My scribblings.

Oh, and for any wondering eyes, please feel free to respond.

Here's to a new beginning, I suppose.

But what exactly is a beginning? It is something that ends.

I have decided I do not enjoy endings. I enjoy continuations. However!

For something to continue, it needs to have begun; this implies that it needs to end. Now you begin to see my dilemma.

You see, or perhaps you don't (I honestly don't care) I, personally, do not want to end, as it were. I want to continue. Why?

Doubt.

Doubt is a terrible thing. The doubts in regards to society and religion are especially horrid. What is there left to believe in anymore if one cannot even have faith that there is a new beginning after an ending? Or is that what an ending is? Or are we all stories? Written, read, forgotten.

I do not want to end up on a shelf underground rotting away into nothingness, consumed by whatever it is would be interested in my pages.

I want to continue on. I want to be read forever.

No, not when the time comes? Perhaps. But then, who's to say exactly when and why my time will come? It could be tomorrow. It could be fifty years from now.

I could end at any time.

My thoughts on this are simply as follows: I do not want to end; but if I have to end, I do not want to be forgotten.

Mine is simply one of millions of voices crying out the exact same thing.