It was the first day of the blizzard and everything had turned flickering Wythe. The snow seemed to be coming from all sides, when a dark figure appeared. The snow crunching beneath his boots, it was only the boots that knew where he came from. They were the only ones most likely to be there where he was going. Thomas passed by without looking and it seemed he was out of it all, never letting anything to fully get to him. And he really was out of it, again. Tormented by demons of his own creation, he felt physically sick every time his mind was taken over by the drive. He was restless, jittery, even in pain, released only when the dark mistress was pleased and Tom had bled it all out, down on paper. His eyes were glittering, full of determination. Power and motivation will make you climb the unclimbable. Writing will only take everything from you, and then some, and when you have fought the three headed monster and won, you will grow. Like a muscle, that has been brought to exhaustion, you will only find yourself, when you have touched the limits of your being. Gone where noone else have ever been to, equipped only with your brave heart, your loyalty to yourself, and your boots.