It starts unexpectedly. The sleepless nights formed without no singular reason. Then they come out. At times without names, other times, named as they make a full appearance; funny faces, silly antics. They amaze you with their humor, their taste for sorrow; taking you with them on a thrilling ride. They become a friend or I dare say you.
Most of the time, they come out after destroying the inner parts of who you stand for; gradually tearing the binds you have had for so long. The fear, the longing for acceptance; everything you held back, they drag out forcing you out into the sun. To project balance, the log you stand on must understand the sole of your feet.
First came the end; the daily, weekly progression of their story. Did their stories fit? Who knew? But after the eyes are cleared or when the mind recedes to a night of proper sanity, you begin to see their life struggles. And then you smile knowing you have brought a part of you.
To you, they gave their life; a piece to admire or sulk in. To you the baton was handed. You either run the lap while the shouting rings out loud, or you wait the race ends then you run along amongst the quiet ones.
The next stage you fall into after surviving the progressive era is: the build-up stage. A place where the lights are more (maybe less) focused. Like a good MC, you hype the progressive era, building it up hoping to catch an eye from the stares you get.
The substance (progression stage) is there, now fill it up with details. Story wise, that is.