When time ends, you won’t be here. Neither will I. I can’t explain the drunken dizziness of the hopeless thought that fighting finds worth in an abundance of naught, that trying doesn’t matter when there’s a period at the end of the sentence.

When time ends, fear becomes free and freedom smiles in the face of fear. Babies are born with a fresh start but their ripeness fades with shallow care.

When time ends, the slow growth will have been fast, the challenges will have been worthless. Because time is ruthless. We pity the loss but only reminisce on our accomplishments. Time doesn’t have a plan, only a pathway. When that pathway ends, we’re lost.

But we can always try to clear the rest of the way. Because time will never end, only our will to keep going.