Sometimes, I drift into daydreams—not of the one who holds my heart, nor the friends who offer me solace, but of the life that waits beyond the present.
Yet, when I peer into the horizon of my own future, all I see is void. A black expanse. A silent nothing. A sorrowful truth.
I once wondered why—why my imagination faltered, why my dreams felt like ghosts of something lost. Had I been robbed of fantasy, or had I simply learned that no vision could ever be mine to