Every ending is a beginning.
It's just hard to see it when the tears are flowing and the flash-backs kick in.
And you loathe nothing more than time itself.
Because it wouldn't wait for you to embrace the scent or the scenery for as long as you would have liked.
It ran. It sprinted to the finish line.
But you didn't even get the chance to say goodbye.
You never saw it coming at all.
But it came. And it ended. And who woulda guessed that this is who you'd be.
You never know who your real friends are until you shave your head.
You never know what your real feelings are until someone asks you in your sleep.
And you never know how much stuff you have until you put it all in boxes and take it somewhere new.
Someone yell "Timber."
I'm falling down.