Everything repeats itself in this Universe. Chaos becomes a dull routine. We drag on, in vain, invalidating our dreams, loathing everything and idolizing life. We watch beauty rot before our eyes, and resentfulness blossoms.
Yearning for those perfect days to part with things, people, possessions or ideas that I no longer want. Every vestige of phantom air vanishes and gives way with a solemn voice to a new vivacity. Forgive yourself, numerous times.
Living in a permanent isolating cell, overwhelmed with our amplified selfish struggles, we could not live day after day if the chance of terminating our life on our own terms would not make us begin things over and over again. 6 more words