Am I repeating the same sentences, again and again? It used to be easy, keeping our heads hidden in the clouds. And now, I fear the irreversible process of disentachment has already began. How can you tell when it's time to let go for good? How do you know if there's a sparkle still burning under this pile of ash?

Struggling to focus on something different, a tranquil image that will release my mind and soul. But there's always a you threatening to undermine the constructed self-sufficiency of the fleeting being I like to call myself. Uncertainty reigns. Long gone are the days when we almost knew what our hearts desired. 

So what if you decide to walk away, leaving everything behind you in ruins? The earth will keep turning; your face in the mirror will continue to age; the chains of gravity will always tie us down. How many times can we start anew, how many times can we wipe the past away and pretend we're still young and eager and filled with hope?