The beginning of an end of a beginning of an end's beginning.

The beginning of a very long, exciting, tedious, hateful, wonderful piece. I'm really excited to be writing this. I'd be even more excited to have someone pay me to do this. Haha, enjoy.

Excerpt from my Myst story--

There are certain thoughts that cross your mind when you’re running out of a burning building. You might think about your family, or how they’ll feel when you’re gone. You might think about your kid, if you have one. Hell, you might even think about your dog and what in god’s name he’s gonna do if you end up dead. Regardless of what you think, though, that overwhelming thought of, “I got to get the fuck out of here,” trumps ‘em all.
And I will admit that was among my top five priorities for myself, but I wanted to get everyone out with me too. It just wouldn’t feel right if I survived knowing I didn’t do all I could to try to help someone…in that kind of situation. I don’t mean being all generous to just anyone. If they don’t deserve it; they don’t deserve it. Don’t question it too much. Even so, sometimes you have to help the undeserving. There’s always an off chance they’ll bounce back and realise the severity of what you’ve done; again, in a burning fire kind of situation, of course. But in general, if you only learn one thing from me, make it this—no one is utterly selfless, everyone one is completely selfish, and the way you go about that is making the best of it.
Anyway, when I say I was leaving a burning building I don’t mean it was a contained fire and fire-fighters showed up and we all walked out in single-file lines, (because single-file lines usually happen in those situations.) It was massive, the fire I mean, and it was mostly due to the fact that it wasn’t just one building on fire but several. For more than a few blocks all you could feel was the heaviness of the rapidly spreading smoke. And for miles off the island’s coast all you could see was the sky painted in blacks, reds, and oranges being quickly devoured by the silver grey smoke. There were distant sounds of police and ambulances, but they were futile really. It was New York City during rush hour, so it’d take at the very least an hour for them to get downtown, and I knew that. The bystanders looked at it with excitement or lack thereof, for anything was expected in the city. It was just another everyday occurrence.
I did try to find others, running in and out of rooms, even as that particular building was collapsing. I found one man. He looked like he was a janitor, wearing a grey jumpsuit and a threaded nametag that read, “John.” He was passed out, probably from smoke inhalation, so I just threw him across my back and kept on my way. And though I was very agile and fit, it was impossible to try to save so many people, even if I was stumbling upon less and less, which was either really good or really bad. I’m not sure. I should’ve just used my mind. But I didn’t know at the time. I didn’t know much then, come to think of it. But I’ll tell you this. And maybe you won’t judge me so much when you hear the full story, not that it matters much. I started the fire.
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No one died, if that’s what you want to know. And the closest thing you’ll get to a why it happened in the first place from me is that I wanted to prove a point. I needed to prove a point. And with that fire, I did that, so it’s justified enough for me. I’m not looking for approval here. In fact, that’s the last thing on my mind. What I am now and what I was then are as similar and dissimilar as fire and ice.
I am that same person. I have that same heart and that same mind. I’m still that scared kid that wouldn’t let go of her brother’s hand when they said he had to leave. I’m all of that. But experience changes you. Life changes you. And I won’t say that I’m bitter. I’m too proud to say I’m bitter. But, there are some things, events, and people that will just never leave my mind. I really should’ve used my mind. But I’ve no space for regret inside.
I’m not looking for approval here.