Sorry, this one's going to be cryptic. I'm not sure if I'm ready to talk about the specific memories that brought this on.
Two and three years ago. The cat that was lost and found, and the dog that escaped to its death. Each time, a prayer. Each time, an answer, and a regret. We turn as a simple cogs, unable to understand the mechanism of the world. Every so often, we cogs cause a kink in the system. Thoughts sent out into the universe. Perhaps, we jiggle out of place. Perhaps, we put our feet down, stubbornly denying the reaction that should pass through us to the next cog. Perhaps, we crack, and a piece flies into a nearby system. Each time, the entire microcosm around us ceases, just for a moment, to function as it should. For a moment, euphoria.
But then, the darkness sets in.
The feeling of power to a small cog is replaced by the overwhelming sensation of impending doom. A brief glimpse of the pieces falling apart around it. Of the weight it bears. A cog is not meant to choose its position. It is simply meant to turn.