RE. START.

They say girls with big bags have security issues. What I used to sneer at, I agree now. We want to pile our lives into those bags, we want every unpredictable situation under control as long as we have everything in the bag.

Yet, ironically, we are the least prepared, we do not know how to react to evil twists of fate, or change in heart. So we steel ourselves; we keep our fragile hearts in metal chests that even top grade diamonds cannot cut through. For we are not like them girls who quiver at the diamond's shallow brilliance.

Instead ...

We query the mystery of a volcanic rock thrown up from the depths of her mother's belly 10,000 leagues under the sea, we marvel at the fine grains of sands that hide so many lives but yet so transparent and vulnerable as glass. We dive deep into our own emotional oceans, seeking still waters, craving tranquility, wanting stability.

That's not you, a friend once said to me. You live life on the edge.

A little too much, yes. I sometimes venture foolishly out to embrace the climactic horrors of the emotionsphere. I've been kissed by the breeze on my cheeks and the golden rays of sunlight on my eyes. I've hunched against the assail of hail and been punched out of wind in my stomach. I've burned like a furnace in my chest and chilled to the core of my heart.

I want to retreat to the seabed, where the water runs deep, where the current is still. Where I'd rather not fall into the giddying pleasure of a spinning vortex, so I won't be breathless when I fall out of it.

We have baggages we cannot let go. Yet we must learn to do so.

I need to. I have to. RE. START.