END

Finishing a book is a great feeling. I mean real great.
But as you get closer to the end you start looking at the few pages left in your right hand thinking well how can this come to an end?

All good things come to an end and the worst part is they seem to crumble
to pieces just long enough to crack one last smile and see them disappear.

Minor sunday depression comes to an end and I find myself holding on to these words
"it all works out in the end"