It was just a break, a terrible break. A dreadful one, one i think i would regret, maybe. I think i should regret, unsure of my decision. Really, i don't know anymore of what i want or what i think i want. It's all just a jumble mixture of numbers, faces, words, and whatever left i think i want to write but i choose not to write. And pristine is what i dreadfully want, white world, unashamed of the skin. Just one voice, my voice, penetrating through every sunflower and whatever i can imagine. One choice, so there's no wrong. Motivation, just to take another chance. Hope all starts well again.