When was then and now was whom. Endure is a funny word.
Something we do everyday sometimes without a hesitation but recalled as subject of weighed pain.
Elephant on heart.
Surely my age of adolescent has finished. Yet pounding condemns and overpowers voluntary self. However it is true that organs are involuntary functions.
But with all effort of sincerity doesn't seem to respond. I feel but I must watch. I cry with unspoilt blood.
It is only with my selfish intensions that I must believe difference among my kind.

Still the rhetorical question constantly rings my attention. Forever be? Or take action even with the variable chance of doom?