"Heaven is a place on Earth with you, tell me all the things you want to do..."

Lighting up a new candle whose flame I watch waver slowly in the dark window's reflection as night engulfs the world outside.

I went outside briefly earlier, just before night fell on the city, and breathed in the coolness in the air that tasted like a fog coming. There is something strangely hypnotising about winter coming... as if the whole world is slowing down. Winter is a poet's window to death. Yet in nature, winter is only a prelude to life being reborn.

I feel a bit lost... I know I can no longer rely on the past to make real sense of the now. If I carried on delving into the past and relying on memories, I would only be immersing myself in the equivalent of quicksand within the mind because memories and perception keep changing and shifting constantly. If I kept following that road, I'd just be like a puppet running from one shifting perception to the next depending on the fancy of my own mind's interpretations.

When we moved countries and had to only take the necessities, those necessities at the time consisted of pictures, a couple of books and my diaries.

This one particularly strong occurrence in my life helps to show that I was already displaying a misplaced attachment to the past. I couldn't fathom or accept that things come to pass. One of the hardest lessons for me remains reaching that acceptance. My ultimate fear is that of loss, and that fear is translated by an inability to let go.

I have spent my time fighting within myself, trying so hard to find a way to stop things from changing... Now I am simply frightened that there is nothing I can do to stop doing that because I've always done that.

I don't think I can help myself. The key won't come from within this time, but from without. What a contrast to all the things I used to think so far.

I wish there was someone to take my hand and pull me out of the quicksand... is that weak to admit?

regardless... I'm at a crossroad. The choices I make next will dictate whether I slip deeper in the quicksand and let the flame die, or emerge somehow out of the cocoon to fly.

I need light in my life... my own antithesis to wake up.