The Brain is Never at Rest

27

I watched as the pages of the calendar turned. Am I surprised? Yes. Seeing a different number seemed as if I was seeing myself in a completely different manner.

When I asked myself if I was disappointed, I knew yes could have been the better answer. But I declined the urge to abandon the memories I made throughout the days that I thought I couldn't get any better. I ignored the strong desire to keep the lessons secret and instead allowed them to flow like a smooth river inside my brain.

I watched how Mondays turned to Wednesdays and Wednesdays turned to Sundays and how I keep seeing the same days, but every day seems like a different hue. Last Monday red, then the next it was blue. I thought there was something wrong with my eyes, but I never thought that perhaps the mistake was made by my ability to perceive things.

Calendar leaves fell like cherry blossoms on a full-height spring, but it was not pink. It falls white but turns into ash as it hits the floor. Does that mean that the days that have gone by were meaningless? No. It means that it is over.

And what do you do when it's over? Do you remain on the site and ponder on what could have been? No. Because a broken glass could never be a mirror again. Therefore, what are we supposed to do with the mistakes we've made as we continue to progress? Do we forget?

We can barely forget what clutches our guilt. The best thing to do is to learn; to never commit the same mistakes ever again. You can weep over spilled milk, but that's the bare minimum. Your tears won't create a new glass filled with milk, but they will help you lessen the burden of your mistakes.

The point is that the calendar page would continue to change from 1 to 2 to 30. There's nothing you could do to stop it unless you choose to halt your heartbeat instead. But you can make the most of the pages and leave no room for regrets.