Nothing ends at the point from where it starts. Be it a thought, or a piece of writing. It's tough staying close to reality, at some point you are bound to drift into imagination. It seems to me know that nothing really has an end. Everything is like some unfinished business. There are a million possibilities for anything to happen, and another million to follow them. Maybe that’s because you cant hold everything together. Your hands are not big enough. You have to let go of something if you want to catch another thing. Even if you don’t want to, something's just slip right through. It's not like everything is up to you, but like they say everything happens for good. But you still can't just leave everything to go its way; you have a role to play in it too. I guess its instinct that you have to play your part. After all for how long can one person sit idle? Now see where my random thoughts are taking me. Better shut them down now. Though they'll still be juggling in my head.