There have been new experiences, women, sex, guilt, drugs, alcohol and some rock and roll. Then decadence knocked on my door. Or was it me hitting the wall? Both, I would say. One after the other. Heavy, loud, disastrous. Too soon into the process. Way too soon.
My so called “restart” have been nothing short of grand questions and trial and error. Poetic drama mixed with vital revolution. Sleepless in Copenhagen. Tortured by heartache. Briefly sedated by mirages of love and past stories that could have been but failed to happen, all over again.
The truth now is too real to keep evading it. I have reached the point of no return. Bridges are burnt down. Here and now are all there is. Future? There’s some of that, but from where I’m standing is hard to tell what it looks like. It’s hard to tell anything about anything, really. So better end it here than drag it further. For the restart is here to stay, so it’s not even a start anymore. This is me now. It happened. I happened.
Funny how it ended, huh?