There are contrails in the orange sky as I look out the window. It makes me contemplate for a moment. It seems to me that my reduction into the lowest form of depression has manifested itself quite rapidly, perhaps at the loss of purpose and love, as a result of the mundane things -- which were not mundane at all -- that I took for granted. My aggression towards the end sealed my fate, and now I am left barenaked to witness the gradual loss of my persona. I shudder to think of what lies ahead. All I want, all I still want, all that I have ever wanted, is a new purpose.
I cannot blame everything on Mioseon. That was on me. It was my biggest mistake. The things that I did, I did because I grew desperate. It consumed the totality of my being. From the moment that we met, I was sure that my life had begun, that that was it. My life found meaning and purpose. The joy and the pain eventually came, but I grew complacent. We were meant to be together, I thought. None of us could have anticipated. One of us had to give in, and one of us gave up.
It's been too long. Too long a time for mourning. Nothing of value came my way soonafter. Everything was taken away.
I miss the conflicts. I miss everything about me when Mioseon showed me what it means to be alive, to affect another's life beyond my own, and to stimulate the other into grace. These things occurred without me not realising the effect of my actions. It was all spontaneous. A big bag of circumstances with a straight line and filled with heart. Love was at the center, through the good times and bad.
Now I wait. Constantly and eagerly for an answer. Where do I go from here? I would follow the tip of the contrails if I could. If only all of that led to Mioseon.