AngelGabe

I used to write. In fact I used to write on this site, my words and thoughts contained in the history of a digital world where nothing is forgotten, well never truly forgotten. Those words used to come spilling out of my desires, my fears, my anger, my perceptions. They would tumble out of my mind, rushing along with electrical impulses that fired out of my brain, very much like sailors abandoning ship after a torpedo slammed into the broad side of a dark gray hunk of metal that somehow managed to float along until the moment of its demise. These dying thoughts, tragically suicidal impulses, would cruise down a pathway of nerves and muscle memory to find salvation in the life rafts of my fingertips and a simple keyboard.