Déjà Vu

Sometimes, we write stories. We imagine things and then try putting them into words. We pen our dreams, our deepest ambitions and our worst fears. We build a protagonist who endures, who climbs out of chasms and then surfs the crests.

Sometimes, that story becomes our own. And then you wonder why you wrote the story in the first place.

On that note, I absolutely loathe Novembers.