i'm leaving this right here.i'm tired. i won't make this mistake again. every tomorrow keeps looking like something else, something new, and i'm grateful. every twenty-four hours, you get smaller. you're the car i passed on the highway. or you're the car who passed me. i hate metaphors. you're small. i let you be big for so long, i'd forgotten how you'd grown so large.
the next time i carve out space for a soul or a feeling or a trust or a thought it will be worth it.
in the end it will have been worth it.