It always feels that I’m beginning in the middle or the end of things. Never in my life, have I really felt that something started at the beginning. And so, many things I want to last end up finishing before I realise it’s really gone. Most things I want are meaningless, and possibly nonexistent, but I want it as much as gold. Perhaps, once…if I knew, this was the beginning and perhaps if I knew that this would end, perhaps I might have a happy ending. Is one happy ending worth dying for…of course, I seem radical now, but life seems to be a repeating pattern of beginning in the middle of this nameless book. I don’t want to live with so little purpose that at my end I have failed to realise what I’ve lived for. Maybe, I should observe more and look for what really is bothering me…Everyday. Since wherever I go is bound to make me confused, I’m just going to allow what will happen to happen. It was hard before for me to dive, but after being submerged so long in a darkness that seems unending, I don’t think about it much anymore. This time though, things feel right. And if I forsake what assurance I have now, I might be so far gone that I’ll never be the same to find the only thing I want: peace. I am so afraid of how these circumstances will make me bitter.