"Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow—
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream."

Does it matter?

The world turns, slow yet infinite. Time runs along in tandem, though it never seems to bring anything concrete with its consistent aging process. Day by day, night by night, moments replay and blur in your mind. Banshees wail in the distance, expressing their distress at the ill intent midnight drags with its inevitable presence. Black and white moons illuminate the torment seared into their hearts and minds.

Fate seems to linger, regardless of significance or happenstance. It wasn't always like this, but part of you wishes that it was. This way, the burden would be much easier to bear. And yet, a different part of you begs on hands and knees for the old life you once knew, the one you can still feel lurking at the edges. You're not sure if you yearn for it because you want to relive the moments you've lost, or if you simply wish for causality to stop breathing down your neck. But wishes don't solve problems, and hoping for them only makes the dilemma more prevalent.

Change seldom comes to you. Perhaps this will be the evening when you finally gather the motivation to take a step forward and seize the adjustments you've been longing for.

A lone thought nestles itself in your mind, like a string connecting your life to the monotony it shares with the world surrounding you:

You have a feeling that change is never going to come.