Final
The problem with beginnings is that they make you think of endings. Is this true with other things? Does black mean white? Perhaps the ending is the equal and opposite reaction to a beginning, or, more obviously, it is just the inevitable. Like how they say the second you’re born is the second you start to die.
I’d like to enjoy my beginning without thinking about my ending, but I’m a product of planners and planning. Visualizing. So I equate the beginning to the ending. It’s almost the same thing. Why bother trying? But you need to try. Because what’s worse than ending is regret.
I feel anxious. Like I already lost. Like they aren’t telling me something.
And I don’t want it to end, but it’s already begun. Ending?
