In the end you remember the beginning. It makes you realize how fast we age and how quickly time passes. Not everything that you love or that feels tremendously comfortable is always what is best for you, and that can really sucks sometimes. Then, all you’re left with nothing but a memory. But a memory isn’t good enough for me. A memory cannot live or create or dance or laugh or be anew because a memory is stagnate. A memory cannot be relived tangibly enough to bring about satisfaction for the things that truly mattered. But that is just something that I am forced to live with. I will always remember you and that will never be enough for me.
If a memory is completely unsatisfying, in every sense of the word, and if the now cannot be truly appreciated until after, then life really is nothing but suffering.