496 days… since moment the previous life was so strangely interrupted and changed. Still feel weird, like that day really disjoint the life in two: the younger years when you still suppose the best things in your life to be ahead; and later ones that make you realize the coolest things you knew are definitely in the past. There might be new ones, new great people, discoveries and inspirations, but never as great as before.. Still can’t fit in and still don’t like to fit in. Not feel like a sort of person who can live back forward, on memories, and keep its eyes in the past. I think it would be kinda easier to get used to live without a leg or an arm than without this expectation of new perfect inspiration only ultimate artist can give. Almost 500 weird days, the first days of the matureness.