My problem is that I keep on waiting for tomorrow, a day that may never come. I let things go, thinking, eh, I can always do it later. I let myself go, thinking, eh, I can always change myself later. I let people go, thinking, eh, I’ll meet with them later someday. And what I’ve realized is that I’ve been using this excuse of later for every now in my life; I’m postponing aspects of living for a day that I don’t even know exists for me. I’m gambling with the hand of death here and I think I’ve been dealt the winning hand, but if there’s one thing I’ve learned from the numerous phonecalls of, “So and so died, keep him in your prayers,” it’s that nobody has ever won, and nobody ever will. I’ve been promised one thing in this life, almost paradoxically, death, and it’s time that I start paying him the respect he deserves: life.