you do not exist forever

Sometimes, all that keeps me here is the promise that I won't be here forever. I want to be here for this, and I want to leave when I'm ready. When I'm ready, I'll want to have known all that there is to know about me. Though, that's impossible. Maybe that's okay, that that's impossible. Possibility is subjective, as is time. Time will pass, and I will, along with time. We will. We are time. For the time, now, we are here. We are here and we will stay here until we go. When we go, we will be time. We may be here forever, or maybe we will leave, and go somewhere that we need to be. For now, we are here. Here is okay. Stay here, a little while. stay good.

Was she pretty like the sky on a rainy day? Was she pretty like the moon hiding behind the clouds? Was she pretty like the flowers that bloomed when it was warm? Why did you call her  pretty ? She won't feel pretty . In her eyes, she is  the epitome of not. And you have no right to call her pretty . And she has no right to think she's not. Still,  she will believe what she does. And she will listen to you when you tell her she's pretty . And she may even believe you, but she will believe  herself, at the end of the day. When the sky fades into night, when the moon falls behind the horizon, and when the flowers wilt. She'll never see, but that's okay, because neither will you. Will you? stay good.