I hate waking up because everyday I wake up in the future
When every night I ask for the past
I spend the inbetweens dreaming of little things I would change if given the choice again
And how massively different those decisions would cause my life to be

If I could be aware of just what little I know now then?
Then I wouldn't be typing this.

I'd spend every second on happiness and trade all my sorrows for such.

I'd dream of the future, rather than variations of my past

I'd live in the moment, rather than anticipate it's end.

I'd be a better man, son, brother and friend.

Though it seems illogical,
So did circling the globe,
I will never stop searching or hoping
Even if this body never knows