I believe firmly in the fact that in the chaotic randomness of a ceaseless mind is present a map of an organized subtlety. Filtering the disorder of our personal narratives to a reassuring linear continuity, removing any guilt from the equation so we can look back on our life with false virtue. Depriving us from an epiphany about the disparity between the reality of control from the control of our reality. Let me tell you a story of mine, my dear sagacious readers.
As it may be, our life is a constant memory, walking on the infinite slope of time trying to grasp the unending uphill of the future. Time, within its grasp lies a memory of mine, slowly fading to oblivion in the pitch black of my consciousness. In our tendency to forget many a thing, some glimpses remain with us forever. These glimpses echo within me the fragments of the person I wanted to be, burrowing deep within that discomforting realization. So, I strengthened the belief of mine that there lies an emotion stronger than love; regret. Damaging the threads which connect the past to the present and the present to the future.