I hate nights like these. When I hear that pesimistic whispher that everything good comes to an end, and anything that brings you joy won’t be around for very much longer. I try to think of how happy I am now, and all I hear is a ticking. Ticking of the time I have left to feel this full. This Complete. It’s inevitable that things can’t stay this way forever, and the more I think about that, the more it kills me. Nothing in my life has stayed. It makes me sick that in time, no matter how much I don’t want you to go, you won’t be any different.