Thrills, like that for a song, rarely last long. Yet old songs bring back warm, fuzzy memories of a yesteryear seemingly gone too soon. You gloomily hope they somehow last, though dragging things way beyond expiration date isn’t ideal either. It comes out coerced or rather like some sort of a phantasm where everything goes according to plan. You tell yourself that’s perfect. Yet after awhile, desperate attempts at justification of the crumbling walls wails out boredom.
And for the umpteenth time you realize that the only thing you can do is be an uneasy bystander, moving where ever the crowd tediously treads towards.
You tell yourself its’ time to grow up. It’s time to accept facts as they are. Inertia is still a stumbling block after so long.
And its’ probably true that the only steps that matter are the ones you take by yourself.
its’ time to grow up.
