Now he found himself at the secluded beach where he had been when the summer began, but without any direction whatsoever. He had hoped Weymouth would inspire him to change the route in which his life was headed. Now he found himself in what appeared to be the same place, if not further away from where he had started. It was truly his own fault, he had come to realise. He could no longer blame it on anyone else. He was in control of his life. He made the decisions, and it was because of those decisions that he was once again faced with a bone-deep loneliness.