What if the reason why I always feel I'm left behind is because I'd always been the one to linger? What if it's not that they've left me, but I'd stayed behind for the next person, and the next all in efforts to help? Yet all this time, I slowly dragged myself into the mud to allow my friends to pass over safely only to look up and unfairly cry out as they move on in life.
That certainly paints things in a different light.
That certainly paints things in a different light.
