There are so many pieces from so many stories, but not mine.
Like puzzles you can't manage to make all together. Like problems not to be solved.
I've heard once, that everything passes you by, so problems are going to run away too.
There aren't never-ending stories. Never.
So maybe sometimes you need just breathe. Without all these rules or explanations back in your head.
Maybe sometimes you need just live. And expect nothing more.
