No feeling is final, but each moment is.
Your life happens in a day. The only thing that really exists in a life is a day. If you aren’t present, you’re already half dead. There are no cumulative moments, there are only details, there are only days.
And we waste most of them.
Waste most of them buying clothes for another day, working toward goals that we never fully realize. Everything is a means to an elusive and untouchable end, everything is to make a plan for things that will inevitably be rocked off course anyway. We don’t schedule finding the loves of our lives. We don’t anticipate the day we’re going to die. We don’t know these things won’t happen tomorrow, or today, we just assume.
You won’t remember the days, you’ll remember a few moments within the days. The more you’re focused on a hypothetical someday, the more you’ll miss. The less…
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