Searching for water, hoping for rain...

The path ahead isn't always clear. We make plans and we calculate how we think our circumstances deserve to unfold, yet we refuse to learn that no amount of predictions can prepare us for the moment when our future actually comes to fruition. We try to shield ourselves from the inevitable pain of being alive, of loss, of love, but the true reality of growing up means that we will be forced to face demons we never even realised existed. Bombs drop left and right, and as I try to find shelter, I am paralysed as the world comes crashing around me. I raise my weapons, because despite everything, it is not over. I am not over.

He watches the memories of who he was slowly burn, and as he starts leading a life he never thought he would, he welcomes the fire of change, for only through the ashes of all that once was, can he rise anew. It is a tale told a thousand fold, yet it holds no lesser meaning when applied to a specific journey. To a specific life. His life. He has been here before, as all you silent voyeurs can attest to. He has written these words, and he has felt this sorrow. What is different though? What more can he learn that he hasn't yet? Does the road ahead hold even greater challenges? Ones he can only phantom if he survives his most recent blunder? As always, only time will tell, and since forever, time is never really time at all.