I realize now that my life is nothing but the pursuit of utter oblivion.

I am here because I'm a Titan. I'm a Titan because I fight crime on a daily basis. I fight crime on a daily basis because I have a respect for justice. I have a respect for justice because I desire the greatest prosperity for life. I desire the greatest prosperity for life because I know that I am full of death. I am full of death because I am the half-demon daughter of Trigon.

But I usually don't go that far in my minute-to-minute thinking.

All I see and all I know is that I'm a Titan. And I have these annoying blockheads that surround me…that constantly annoy me and give me headaches…that constantly beckon an unwilling sorceress to join them in their social play. And my strongest struggle is balancing my meditation with my sanity at the hands of them.

But the Titans are not my life.

What is my life?

My life is nothing but a momentary pause before death.

And each hour I spend with the Titans, I am wasting away into a black hole ticking like the time bomb that it is.

One day, the portal will open and it will suck everyone in.

Me.

The 'annoying souls' I fight with and—quite secretly cherish.

And the world around me. The world I struggle to protect.

But what do I do about that?

I ignore it.

I keep living in the now.

In my books of gothic poetry.

In teacups and incense candles.

The stretched muscles of my room's granite shadows.

This darkness will someday pounce upon me and freeze me from the inside out.

I know this…but I ignore this.

I submerge myself in that beautifully blinding darkness.

And I choke.

And it's all but the skin on the back of the neck of oblivion.

Like a slow-trotting stallion that I'm riding into the wall before eternity.

This deadly princess will ride on forever, if I let her.

And what will the Titans do of it? The Titans will be consumed. The Titans will be consumed because they're unwittingly supporting the self-obliteration of this princess called Raven. And in the end, they might hate her. And they may despise her for all she has done to delightfully deceive them all these months and years and—perhaps—decades.

Just because she kept to herself.

The quiet one.

The quiet one….and the lonely one.

Misery loves company.

Misery loves company indeed.

But…..

But I can't think of that right now….

We're going out for pizza.

They're dragging me along.

I think….

I think I will bring a book with me.

T. S. Eliot.

Time to dream of another wasteland far from me.