They always say there is something waiting for you at the end of the rainbow, a pot of gold. But what is gold anyway? Is happiness not the actual journey you undertake. There is nothing in the future, but there is promise of eternity in the past. Am I wrong? What is there in the future but death, but in the past there is birth, there is childhood, there prime of life and love.. true love, not the one induced by viagra and a few dirty dollars. Future is bleak and frightening and the past clouds quickly, full of cobwebs and holes. And missing it doesn't bring back the few precious moments of each delicious breath. There is fear and that fear paralyzes my heart, stifles my breathes when I try to sleep. Before my eyes there is darkness of his future. It is boundless, but there is an end. That end, I fear that end. I dread its existence and mention. We study history in hopes of understanding the future. I study history in order to comfort myself with the fact that in it I am immortal.