It's 4am and that's the only way I can justify the madness of this.
I'm a little sad. But in a mostly sweet way.
It's like I'm about to turn a corner and my right foot has hit the accelerator, but the clutch (under my left) just won't come up. It's ripe and scary and good and I can't afford to stall.
I'm suspicious of the corner, I don't trust it. I can't reverse back around this one. And I don't know if it'll be enough.
And that makes me a little sad. But good sad. Because I think it might be enough. I hope it will be.
So I'll lick my lips, taste the sadness and give thanks for its peculiar flavour.