Off

The contrast cannot be clearer than this. Sitting alone here I realize that I have been moving on. Moving on, leaving behind the hurt received and caused, moving on away from that sense of belonging and fighting again to carve out an identity, just to move on once again. Detachment seems to have taken a new definition. Moving on with the dust of those crumbled dreams and wishing to reconstruct them, watch them. Moving on, on a timescale, with just memories of those moments spent with her during which time just stopped. In this whirlwind something has changed, something has gone unnoticed. I really want to stop for some time.