ZERO .

I push us forward, you stubborn wastrel. While you’re trying to meander in a fragmented present, I’m on the move. I walk out the door and fight until I get what I seek, I burn the day, I sleep, and then I wake up. So 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘱 trying to get me to look back. To look at you.

unwritten future, he leaves it all behind, and it’s the purpose that remains. But how far can he get before it all catches up? How long until he’s forced to truly confront himself—not in a quick, avoidant tango, but a slow, agonizing pavane?

⠀ ⠀⠀𝘐𝘵′𝘴﹒﹒﹒ 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘴𝘩𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘨𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘴﹒ ⠀