It is impossible not to think about the new days.

I mean, is it real that some people really don't spend their time thinking about how things change, how routine will happen anywhere you go, how you will always feel small or unhappy from time to time, not meaning you are really defined by none of that?

One day you're undressing to a hot bath and life seems so hard (and we know nothing about it), the other week you look at some random craft you once did on your own and get overjoyed by the fact that you can actually make something out of the chaos.

It's kinda like we would have to keep breaking our own hearts and, meanwhile, realize that it is just simply like that. It will always be.

No matter how you re-think a thousand times a choice to be made (still do it), no matter what is it that you want to become some day (man, we actually grow up), we will still be heartbroken.

I get intimidated by the mess. I feel like I am this little confused pale dot around clear skies. On those days I like to go swimming. To feel the enormous amount of water folding around my body as I seep into it, the change of temperature in its depths, the sound of nothing we hear while dancing around billions of molecules. It is like everything makes sense. I don't even understand what sense is. All I know is that there is a fine line between what we feel and what it really is. Oxygen, chloride ions, carboxylic acids, chlorophytaes, queratin. I guess the only way to blend into nature's immutable clutter is actually becoming part of it.