June 19th

          I hate how we never appreciate things until it's too late. Like how we spend our entire childhoods wishing we were older, and then we spend most of our adult lives wishing we could go back to the worries of recess and collectables and Saturday morning cartoons rather than being plagued by the stresses of houses and cars and bills. And like how we hope all winter that summer will come riding in on a golden chariot, but as soon as the temperature exceeds eighty degrees, we wish it was the beginning of December.

          The only thing I ever did appreciate while I had it was you. But now I don't even know if I still have that appreciation, and a small part of me hates that.