Quite often, it’s that one word you’re looking for. That one word you can start with. Much like the touch of your finger on a delicately placed ceramic. That once touched, has nothing to save it from falling, crashing on the floor, its pieces strewn all around. You stand there, watching. Knowing there’s nothing you can do, could have done. You saw the broken pieces, even before they were broken. Even before it happened. You let it happen. You let it take its course. You let it be. Because sometimes, it’s like that one word you were looking for. That one word that led to another. And then another. And just like that, you had words forming sentences, making stories. Quite often, life’s like that. You think you’re in control. That you started it. That you’ll take it where you want to. And when you turn around, trying to look at where it all started, you’ll find yourself searching for that one word. That one fleeting thought. That one nod or shake of the head. You wander into the crowd of your past. Between memories that were made and then forgotten. Amidst moments that you wished never passed, then let go off. You dive deep into the ocean of your own mistakes. And smile, as you think of how you stand where you stand now, stronger, older, alive. Not remembering how you got here, but happy that you did. And as you do, you stumble upon a new word. That’ll lead to a new story. One that you think you’re writing. But the words of which have already been found. Because your story, has already been written.