You know that feeling when in a moment you are all smiling and the next you are overwhelmed by the surge of memories that would avalanche on you and buries you inside? Like the past moments were flashing before your eyes and you couldn’t change them and all you could do was stand there and watch them lap over you like the waves of an ocean over the rocks on the shore? And all the feelings, buried deep would surface all together and you don’t know how it really feels.
Isn’t it better to look at the road of life through the wind-shield rather than the rear-view mirror?
Isn’t it better to get over somethings, isn’t it always better to let go?
Why wouldn’t my mind stop confusing what’s happening with what has already happened?
The phantasmagoria always stops me from moving ahead.
That ain’t good.
Isn’t it better to look at the road of life through the wind-shield rather than the rear-view mirror?
Isn’t it better to get over somethings, isn’t it always better to let go?
Why wouldn’t my mind stop confusing what’s happening with what has already happened?
The phantasmagoria always stops me from moving ahead.
That ain’t good.
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