Sometimes I sit and think, “What have I done with my life?” I panic, wondering if all that I have left is an album full of people who are now strangers. I try desperately to reach out, to try and bring back all that has passed.
I recall the innocent times and ponder over them, wondering where they have all gone.
I recollect passionate promises of unending friendship and loyalty. I remember plans and dreams of a world of happiness and togetherness, of a life in the same neighborhood with common friends and family.
All is not lost yet, I suppose. But is there reason enough to hold on? Is panic a reason good enough to bring back those who are now so far apart?