I keep a track on the things I read.
It is such a tragic tale, I guess.
I made a tower into which I could see further on the horizon.
I climbed it all the way up, I made each step believing it would be salvation.
Later on I found myself depressed, and every time I look at this tower I only wish to fall down and start it again.
But you can't burn the books you've read, only symbolically though.
They are already on your mind, and the pure fact that you don't remember most of what you've seen hurts more than not doing anything to begin with.
If only I could turn back. If only I haven't had become such an arrogant being. Maybe today this tower could provide me joy.
What else there is to be done, if not to climb further and further? There must be light somewhere out there.
There should be light, someday.
Everyday I struggle with the feeling that I am not doing it right. Is the light, in the very end, only seen when you fall?
I hope one day all this becomes clear.