All good things come to an end

Flames to dust, lov­ers to friends.

Look­ing back­wards through the win­dow of time, it’s always tempt­ing to focus just on the good times, and want­ing more of those. If someone offered you a life­time of good times and noth­ing else, who wouldn’t take that?

But life isn’t like that.

It’s like how you have to eat the lettuce along with the bacon bits in a Caesar salad. If you wanted to invent a new salad, com­posed just of bacon bits, that’s prob­ably a bad idea.

Yin and yang.

I’m not say­ing it’s bad to look through that win­dow, gaz­ing at close memor­ies, and peer­ing at those fur­ther away, hazy through the fog of time. It’s import­ant to hold onto those memor­ies, those exper­i­ences with trav­el­lers whose paths no longer cross yours – because without them, what is left?


Yes­ter­day, I packed up six years of memor­ies into two suit­cases and a few boxes, and drove them back to my par­ents’ house. We did the things that had to be done, had a farewell hug, and said good bye.

It’s funny to think that two suit­cases and a few boxes is the entire phys­ic­al mani­fest­a­tion of six years. But I leave with more than just that, and I hope you do too.

It will be tempt­ing to think, what if? But time con­tin­ues for­ward, as it always has and always will. This isn’t the time for regret; it is the time for us to grow, albeit apart.