Dear Phantom,

It is to my displeasure that I ought to note these remarkable findings.

It is of no great use to write my identity, yet I for the sake of utility, you should acknowledge that an expedition was held, sponsored by Miskatonic University. During the expedition, I would estimate that twenty or so people have

participated, many of them were either researchers in geography, archeology or students pursuing their bachelor degree in history and had to mandatorily participate to such an expedition.

This expedition was based upon a few prior ones that occured in the Antarctica. Many years have passed but we finally found a few traces of what remained of a so called 'hidden city'.

At the bottom of the Himalayan peaks, hidden beneah a cave there found found some finely veiled scrolls, quite queer looking if I may add. For the queerness came in the way in which the scrolls would react to light.

Whenever it would take contact with light the scroll would start evaporating. We could've lost a good chunk of the valuable information had we not carefully transported it in a black courtain and afterwards left it inside a dimly lit tent.

It seems as the scrolls also react to the slight traces of light created by our lamps. Unfortunately we had no chance to read them in such a condition.

A long debate has taken in our camp as we attempted to transmit our findings to the university. The idea of photographing the scrolls was one of the most prevalent upon the debate.

Alas, it was discovered that without producing a short burst of light the photography would not be able to display the text, making the scrolls nay unreadable.

It was quite a misfortune to merely add such an amazing finding to an archive room, unlit, where no one could ever decipher the enigmas hidden inside this piece of literature. Or was it even literature? No one could tell.

For this cause of events we had to return to our old positions, like nothing has ever occured. The whole debacle couldn't be solved unless we attempted to invent a technological wonder which might allow us to read.

A few decades have passed, and so have many of the old fellows who contributed to the great discovery. I was quite lucky to have acquired a military-grade technology which allows me to see in the dark.

I was lucky enough to still have access to that old, sealed archive room where they kept all those old discoveries. And so I indulged myself in literature.

Dear,

What I have to tell is about a long journey, protruded from my many conflicting sentiments. What I could sincerely tell is that whenever I think I've changed the same events seem to happen, and I once again need to learn my lesson.

I've learned that I mustn't give all that big of a thought to things. The more I attempt to do so, and to put my soul into it, the more it seems like I break into the fabric of the universe. I've decided that perhaps I shouldn't

bother as much as I've used to.

And that perhaps I should relax more often than not because my health matters a lot. There are so so many tiny and unimportant things that similarly to bugs, crawl into our minds and infest them with quite the horrific thoughts.

I can't for the love of me add that I have indeed 'changed' or 'learned my lesson' but I do want to believe that I've build myself a moral compass. A compass that tells that perhaps I shouldn't use people for my own benefit, and

that whenever I can I should try to help others.

Friends, they are quite rare. It is mostly people who search for a benefit that would like to entitle themselves as 'friends'.

They are mere facades of what a friend should be. And eventually, when they can no longer fulfill that benefit and when the commonalities that you shared fade,

you will eventually just forget each other. It is what it is. For that, it seems like segregation has become quite popular nowadays, but it is practiced with less people. We shouldn't attempt to explain things, but to understand

them. We jump way too easily to conclusions, which may cloud our judgements.

For now, I shall accept the current state that I am in. For time heals all wounds, and everything eventually strides along the sands of time.

It consumed my mind, it devoured my being. It made me quite inhuman, many would say.

For I was a monarch without a kingdom, without a mind to control. The mind started to control me instead.

I gave up upon instincts, upon frivolities.

I will not indulge you into some 'hippie' shenanigans, as many youngsters would say nowadays.

No, it was worse than that.

I have done even worse.