Flap.

So this is how it's like. To forget about things. No, not exactly that. To finally know that what has been anticipated all the while is empty; that everything needed has always been within grasp. Everything else becomes trash. And importance becomes such a new word.

Grown up becomes a claim, not a mere uncertainty. And who cares about who cares. Things fall into the right places - at least in my head, where they all start to do most often. Drama becomes so silly, almost funny. What lasts becomes what's perhaps for real. So far, none has.

Contentment becomes so easy to have. Like a thought in mind. Or a conversation with the self. Not because things are on calm waters. But because it doesn't depend on any of those.

And the momentum is not lost. Greater efforts are planned but dependence is maintained, and guidance is continuously seeked. Recognition is strivingly rejected. And all glory is emphasized to be His.

And everything becomes so simple. Falling apart seems to be like a distant thought. Stumbling loses its negative power. Flying isn't too complex or impossible, after all.