(no subject)
Everything is temporary. Everything begins and ends and begins again. When I look ahead, I imagine infinite possible futures repeated like countless photocopies, a thousand blank pages, and in each one I see myself, never hiding, never sitting silently, and never just waiting and waiting and watching the world go by. Sometimes it hits you how quickly the present fades into the past, and you question everything around you. You wonder if anything you'd ever do would matter