“Endings are more certain than beginnings.” These words echoed in her mind as she stared at the nothingness the deep, blackness of the night offered her in her solitude. She breathed in the stifling air surrounding her, trying to find some solace in those words. Those words which spoke with absolution that time is nothing but just fleeting moments, those words of inevitability of the end, those words that spoke of the certainty by which fate holds the world with no escape. She sighed. She no longer had to fight nor struggle to keep what had begun burning and alive. She could rest now and wait for it to end, to die naturally on its own. A wave of peacefulness overcame her, a serenity which comes with acceptance. She closed her eyes and succumbed to the meaning behind fate’s beginnings and endings, of fate’s endings and beginnings – that of which is what’s in between.
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