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from scratch
I stared at the bleak prospect of my future with glassy eyes, crestfallen; I had returned with empty hands. A pall of desolation hung in the air, sitting there, wretched and forsaken to solitude, cloistered apart from the buzz of people, confined in my world. Taking a deep breath, I stepped out, plummeting into the pitch-dark trench, diving into sorrow. I have forgotten all about my troubles from time immemorial, and now, it had begun again, starting from scratch.