​There are millions and millions of universes, each one only lasting a second at a time, yet forever ongoing and inescapable, forever being lived through, yet never acknowledged.

A little girl once said “there are only two types of memories, regrets, and accomplishments.” 

Later, she discovered it to be untrue, and she developed another philosophy “memories are neither good nor bad, but simply there, taking up space for no reason at all.”

The girl continued to live, to grow, and her belief in both of her previous hypothesis weakened. She realised that, there can be no explanation for it, not everything needs a reason to be. Her understating grew, yet she did not act upon it, but instead satisfied herself with living and being.

If you didn’t catch on, the girl is me. I have a problem where I tend to over think things, but sometimes there is no explanation.



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