Prose is a door. A gateway. When knocking to sell your mind, heart, soul, to the world, it does not close. It opens. When telling how you feel, think, understand, it does not pretend it knows. It learns. When reading other works and enlightening your own person, it was one of the only website that never froze. It strode on. Prose lets me be myself and open up, learn from others, and stride forward into a better mind, heart, soul, where I can feel, think, understand things better and read works to enlighten myself. I might've chosen Prose, but Prose also chose me.

A longing of sorts for something almost indescribable. A scratch that you have to itch or it will drive you wild. Not love or anything substantial or philosophical as that. It is more primal and instinctive. It is almost stronger than free will. Wanting in a basic form that starts within and slowly eats it way out until it is on your skin, waiting to jump off and fly.