Dead-ends have the horrible tendency of making the current situation feel forever incurable. All the poignancy I feel seem to have pierced and stained the life surrounding me permanently. The only feelings coming close to being enjoyable are the ones that I can only imagine others surely to be having, as this outsider complex drags me even below.
Dead-ends bend my perception of future. And so this lack of refreshing winds to hurl me around seems to extend for an eternity. The haze is disheartening, and as it stains everything, mindscapes that make me feel so refreshed are not only lost, they feel also like an imagined delirium, as dead-ends also bend my perception of past.
Somehow, zephyrous winds always come back. It wouldn’t feel possible, but they always do. And nothing like regained interest in life for it to be recovered. All of my interests suddenly shine again like a new sunrise after a never-ending storm. Golden treasures once lost can always be reclaimed.