When i started writing the first entry of this journal i did not knew what to write exactly, i could start with jokes about politics, make fun of the world's problems, complain because of everyday's routine, but no, instead of doing such things I am here writing about something that deep inside i know all of us lack, that something is freedom...

...But what is freedom?
Is it a thought?
A mere idea?
Does it exist?
It can be touched?
What is it...?
Or he?
Or maybe....She.
Are we Free?
Am i?

So many questions some of us never dared to ask, for it is much easier to live believing that freedom is a tattoo, eighteen years, car driving, sex, doing what we want...Loving whoever we want...
But being free is really something so simple, in fact now that i made you think about it, is being free and having freedom, the same thing?
It can't be right, one who is free can, maybe, not possess freedom, and so happens the other way around.

At this point i'm out of things to write, but you whoever you are, wherever you are...

"Is that all?"
" Yes this is all it says, such a disgraceful life this man was living."
"Worry not for such my boy, people out of their mental state always write things...well...out of their minds."
"This world does not make sense"
"It does not need to, come or we will be late."
"Go first, i need to check something first"
(I've walked around and though i found only a journal and a picture, a girl, a saloon and cheap perfume, maybe tomorrow i will pay her a visit, this Hive, can't be that bad.)