I wanted a perfect ending. Now I've learned, the hard way, that some poems don't rhyme, and some stories don't have a clear beginning, middle, and end. Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what's going to happen next.
I went to a goodbye party for some dear friends tonight. It's always at times like these that I wonder why I let myself neglect staying in contact, like I so wish to do, while they are still around. Is it worth staying safe to risk losing what time I had with people close to my heart, whom I look up to and dream of having a more permanent role in my life? Do I really rather people think of me as 'cool', than to really know me? Is it really better to close myself off because friends never cease to flit in and out, come and go? It's only when I must once again say goodbye that I remember the true answer.
I really must be better at making the most of the time that I have now, not taking for granted that there will be a next week. How many painful regrets of wasted time must I endure before I finally learn the lesson? Why can't I just learn?