I Think I’m Going To Miss Me When I’m Gone.

A strange feeling came over me tonight, and perhaps it’s a spell, but I pay it mind none-the-less. Things are changing – my mind, my heart, and my soul – and as inevitable parts of me change to become no more, I find a sense of sadness. Should I only look forward? Am I wrong to miss what is behind? And just like that, like the passing of a childhood summer, I find myself still wanting. Wanting the summer I climbed my first tree, the summer I found love, the summer I wished would never end, to begin again so I may live, if only for a summer, a life before now. But in 20 minutes I will sleep, saying goodbye to today, only to watch tomorrow become now. I think I’m going to miss me when I’m gone.