As the day opens a new chapter, the night closes the one before it. No, its no story of lore or tale of adventure, it is but a simple life's journey through the days, months, and eventually years. Each minuscule measurement of time is accounted for, so is every action and reaction that gives birth to each new moment. Ah, the tranquillity that is time, when not in a constant rush.
And yet, it feels as if we were born to make time fly. To speed up all that is around us, to achieve more, to accomplish task after task, time and time again. We feel the need for chances to come our way, for opportunities to drop at our feet with the thinking that we will take it up and once and for all do what is needed to be done.
But when our wishes do come true, we falter.
We fail. No, I, failed.
A month or so ago, the doubts were set aside in place of renewed hope for an everlasting confidence that was, at the time, ascertained to pull me through till the bitter end. A month or so on, I barely moved along the path. And it killed me inside. Life literally ebbing away, along with all the courage mustered just weeks ago.
Where does one go from here? Time has proven a tricky entity to master, with efforts having been wasted in the wind for all soul and sundry. It is as a cry in the desert, unheard and unresponsive. A barren wasteland stands on all sides, proving once again what a hopeless journey it was and is turning out to be.
Once again the question is asked: where does one go from here?
Only time, the antagonist of this pitiful fairytale, will tell. The villain, and yet the game keeper. Holding the keys to both redemption and suffocation. Which door will it open, it remains to be seen.
For now, I will just breathe. And that is all I will do.
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