The sensation that the memory of living on another plane, is itself light years away from my consciousness. i try to remember that certain lightness of being, that steadfast confidence and assurance, only to find that the crux of it had disappeared, and the tangy taste of freedom seem to be forever estranged from my senses.
Whatever had happened to that simple faith that all things will turn out good without me having to fret? suddenly i find the world sitting placidly in my two hands, as if any strength wrongly executed could destroy the lump of heavy clay into a formless existence.
if only forever was only meaningful in the now. if only i had to shape things one day at a time. it would all be a very easy solution of hedonism of the mind, doing whatever my whim and fancy allowed with no long term implications. Yet i've been compelled to see into the crystal ball, to make decisions that promise many tomorrows ahead.
and i realise i can't make promises. because i'm incapable of keeping them.