I remember the first snow of last year.
I was so sure, unwavering. My path laid before me like rails of a train. Obvious, logical, flawless. Inflexible, fast. Who I was.
And now, first snow has fallen, a year has passed.
Like rails in the summer heat, the air is flickering. They were not my dreams, I do not own them. They were fallacies, assumptions made from an ever-unchanging environment. I have never been more unsure of who I am. Of who I want to be.
The search is slow. Sometimes turbulent, sometimes calm.
If only I knew the direction, I could tell the distance.
I am young, I can't afford this.
I have to.