Time moves on, as if no one was ever here. No matter how great the man, or kind the woman, time still moves on. Even upon the death of a "hero" the hands of the clock never stop, never slow, never hasten, just always constant, always the same. So what of the people who are not even that, people like me, who are nothing, mean nothing, and have done, nothing. If someone who the echo's of their voice still changes the world, even decades after they leave it are payed no remorse by time, not even a single second of pause or a moment of remembrance. So, What point would I even have in trying, no matter what i do I will never be great, I doubt th