O

There comes a time when everything stops. Your mind is not as open as it used to be. It stops working for a few minutes a day and over a few months, a few years; it seizes to function at the pleasure of its former self. The body has the same qualms. It drys, flakes and slowly turns to dead skin and peels itself off.

Dreams are expensive on the mind especially, and to a certain extent it is almost cruel. So, why do we keep dreaming when we know for a minute that we cannot reach that goal, that target, that door or that place? Because we are fools. That's why.

I can't live anymore. I want to leave. I can't live anymore.