At times I ponder if there is a way of escaping the truth and the memories embedded within the concept. The sun is shining and the pulse is steadily increasing as I set one foot in front of the other. I find life similar to running. One foot in front of another to take you that one step further to where you want to go. The speed is an indication of power. Happiness is power. Times goes quickly when you're happy.
One minute laughing, the other silent dwelling in the dark past. Perhaps that's just the nature of how things pass:
'The tears of the world are a constant quantity, for each one who begins to weep somewhere else someone stops. The same is true of the laugh' (Beckett, Waiting for Godot)
Perhaps there is such a thing as destiny, free will becomes an illusion and every step is an illusion. Was it foreseen that I would be this happy, and thus to make up for it I had to travel through darkness at a young age in order to leave a permanent mark in which I would have to dwell. Or must euphoria always be followed by darkness? In the end of the day, when we close our eyes for the last time, there is little but darkness left, perhaps it's just a reminder of the one thing we can be certain of: that we will die.
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