Found a journal in the bin  bejewelled with minute particles of dust making it look too old, my fingers dusted the cover  whilst my mind behested me to open, the letters on the first page  were smudged by the tearstains, curiosity and fear that I carried  made me carry it home. I flipped through those fragile pages  only to find it was half written,  and the last page had blood stains  soon the stains disappeared  as my tears dropped slowly  as I read those words  "Alas! This idle life feels heavy, and the regret of dwelling in comfort now chokes me. Will it all end  if my life ends?". My trembling hands painfully  opened the very first page  to witness the now fresh-looking page with the words stating that If my idleness kills my dream the soul of my dream would kill my soul, help me,  and the last word was my name. The time that I always killed has always presented to me a chance to live.