And I can see him falling...

Writers don't believe in goodbyes, for we know that the roads we walk are winding, and we generally tend to come back to people and places we've known and been before, and often at either just the right time or just too late. That's why I smiled when I realized it was over. Because I knew I'd be here again one day. My face might be older, and the adversaries giving me pause will wear different faces, but this won't be the last time I stand naked, at the cusp of getting it all, just for it to slip between my fingers. Oh, no, no, no. The story of this life is a circle. And I think I recognize that tree.