It's nights like these that end at 4am and leave me exhausted with sore cheeks that I love. I'll remember them when I'm old and grey and realize I lived a great life. I'll know my youth wasn't wasted and my brief time on Earth was worth it. I'm young, wild, and living free and no one can take that away from me. It's memories like these that make me realize I never have reason to be sad. When I start feeling sorry for myself I want to kick myself! I say, "Megan, seriously? Of all the dimensions, of all the universes, of all the planets, of all the life forms, of all the countries, of all the tax brackets, of all the centuries and you were lucky enough to be here, right now. What the fuck do you ever have to be sad about?!"
And now I've gone off into a philosophy of science and life rant. But hey, I'm delirious. Can you blame me?
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