And you wonder what happened to that simple blueprint, thinking it was all sorted out. A byway, no doubt, but subdued, graveled, perhaps. It has been through thorough scouting, that's for sure, but you suddenly realise they were all part of the elite.
Why, then, is the entity of me in this very driver's seat, steering my reality into something more of an illusion? Almost like one of those dreams you used to have as a kid, where you were behind the wheels at 10.
Consuming for the sake of consuming. Walking for the sake of walking.
It all felt like a dream. The byway, hazy. The very substance that made you evaporated into an unfamiliar realm, and nausea kicks in. You look at your fingers and ponder upon your empiricism, and contemplate on the possibility that maybe, just maybe, it was all an honest misjudgement.
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