With a pensieve reminding you of its presence, you walk with this baggage around, the baggage of knowledge. Feel paralyzed with time, and the dilemma haunts, because you have more knowledge than required, and yet you fall short. Its like a fading train in the distance, you’re on the track but constantly chasing it. Likeminded souls are rare, and a few who are, empathize, which leads you in this hollow, like an abyss or something. Feels more like a distorted version of compassion- empathy, that is. There is this drive that pushes you to belong and a parallel which pushes you not to. Each has reason, more like rationale. Wish they could adjoin, like fuse into each other, because it cannot be overlooked, from either side. How fine is the line I’m walking on?
Solitude longs, solitude haunts. The pensieve keeps popping up. Reminding me of its existence.