This restraint has brought several points for me to reconsider. As I live in a world of ashes, I am doubting the purpose of this quest, as it feels pointless to write texts as I’ve been doing. What’s the point of building a wall, if in front of your eyes it disappears?
Though it feels like I’m changing skin, renovation doesn’t seem like the proper word, as I’m hardly feeling renewed. I’m only more worn-out and without perspective, and this kind of progression is too wicked for me to keep pursuing.
Aside being more critical to my work (and even that, as I’m terribly disheartened to continue), basically nothing has been beneficial to me in this change of generations. I hope being more critical can cease being heart-wrenching and be more like signs of caution, but the prospect of finding more structural cracks like those I’ve found makes me just tremble.
I can only hope I can eventually regain my strength, even if it’s against my etherways. Maybe I can change my cracks and find a way to develop myself without this destructive pressure that’s been bending my resilience bar close to a point of being permanently broken.
