Why should it feel so bad that it might all reverse? Is it because I’m scared what seemed to be a great memory would be gone forever. Why couldn’t I have looked forward to a new beginning? It seemed that I was capable of hurt when I was younger but now I’m exhausted. Maybe the lengths I took to reach that state of liberty had worn me out. And I’m beginning to see the changes not only with my physical capabilities, but mental. I don’t think I’d be able to do it all over again, since I want a different ending to this chapter. Since life is a book of many tales, I wonder how many more I will write in my own. It fascinates me how the little things have never failed to amuse me all these years rather than what everyone saw. How I couldn’t just sum it up into an equation or sentence, as if it had no complexity. But I was still very lonely, now I’m pondering over the things I could do after that bell rings.