"I prefer to move to another table where I can retain my illusion, if illusion it be, that I am working against probabilities, and have a chance to win. Then if you lose, you can blame it on your own poor playing. That is called fragile flaw, and like guilt, it is very comforting. You can go on believing there is a right way way. Only you didn't find it."

The latter tries to achieve the big and great things, but little did they note to realise that those are comprising of many small things that outshine every valiant knight in shining armour. Sometimes, nothing is as real as dreams, which is the probably key to why people dream. Foolish beings, we are, dreaming of twirling candyflosses, sea skies, fields of marigolds. Our lives are waded purposefully, according to maximizing stretch of time and to sowing the rightful pots of gold we reap.

Like that latter, I am but guilty of this. With all said, nothing is retrackable and irreplaceable, just moulded history and wilting love. And with this, these words are my own, though apologies heal not, I bear regret and sensitive grudge. Forgive me, dear.