We called at the detour.

On the road late last night driving in the mad rush - so wildly surreal - it didn't seem like our wide-eyed innocence was so long ago.

We were all desperately trying to fly, and we liked to believe we were. We always say, time/things/people change. So we moved on, often without each other, yet somehow in one way or another, we'd meet at the detour. There were always so much to tell, as though we had the world in our hands, yet we lament about how complicating/empty/worthless Life is over late night milo pengs.

This time, your world came crashing down. Everything you thought you knew was a big, fat lie. But there was no time to waste. It was time to move on. So there you go, pack away the supposed abode and run. Now you are back to build what was taken down, remnants of the consequences that ensued. And this is just the beginning.

I am proud of you. I am glad to see what I've seen so far, the classic you in action.
So some things never really change.