It’s hard to live with what ifs, ain’t it? There must always be this constant faint aching in your stomach, like a butterfly turning back into caterpillar.
I’m afraid, I feel it too.
How in the world did we get here? How did we live through it? How are we even living?
Why is it that?
We long for the beginning when the story ends? We don’t give a shit, do we?
You can imitate a light like mine; but you cannot become it.
If I’m not the love of your life,
I’ll be the greatest loss.
Count on it.