It never leaves me. This constantly changing mysterious force would never leave me. It is busy doing it's own job and I am pursuing my own interest, running away from my death in every single act. Perhaps I am deceiving myself by imagining that a permanent good would come out of it. Perhaps it's a disease and I am just imperfect and the nature simply hasn't done the job right. So that I might as well never be complete and on this beginning and end have to consent to my(or rather this) lot knowing that I am only a tiny little toy in the whole process throughout the universe from an infinite past to an infinite future, this infinitely stretched moment and yet there is a responsibility.