In Reflection

I created this account roughly a year ago. Since then, I cannot say I have achieved any great feats or mental milestones. Yet I am here. I am here now and that counts for something. I live, I breathe, I see, I eat. I am a rock submerged in the infinite ocean of life. My existence is one within infinity. I think of those who were here before me, and those who have yet to come. I am not an intermediate but a passing wave that flows and weaves itself into the eternal fabrics of life.

I am here now as I was there once. I read past entries like a frenzied fan. Entranced, I grasp for past versions of myself yet they seep through my fingers like sand. 

I grasp for myself yet fail to acknowledge the self that has materialized itself and awaits to be perceived and subjected to command. 

This endless cycle. This race of doom. It must end; these ruins of gloom.

In reflection, I see myself through the entries I wrote on days like this where time was still. Yet still, I cannot discern my core from external terms. 

And that is all I have to say on that.

I have experienced the death and birth of passions and goals that rung through me once; now forevermore. My future is inconclusiveness, it lingers like a beast; waiting to feast. In that regard I am scared, scared that I will not compare and make a lair in which I may one day sleep and rest in eternal peace. I thirst for experience and require pieces of it to get closure to determine the direction of my journey. The direction of this wave. Yet nothing can be acquired unless I choose to overcome the obstacles of my mind.

Which direction should I go? Which way should this wave flow?