He waited for a reason. Any reason. But it was an island he couldn't reach. Life just was...undefinable. He was a drifting shadow on a grain of salt orbiting a burning match in a vastness he couldn't bear to imagine. It was really all a dream and when only when he'd die would he wake up and know the reason. All his life he had wanted to be Caesar because just being himself never seemed enough. It never occurred to him that had he attained his greatest dream - had he become Caesar, he would still be the same quiet lonely kid he had always been, and given this fact, would probably be wildly disappointed with the position.