If we learned anything from the Mayans, it’s that if you don’t finish something, it’s not the end of the world.
You know when you revisit a place that meant a lot to you when you were younger- could be younger as in a child, or younger as in a teenager- anyway, you’re excited to go to this place because at one time it felt warm and comfortable and fun and that’s the only way you kno(e)w it. And when you decide to go back when you’re older, it feels entirely different and you begin to second-guess and question everything from your past and it becomes tainted and you just ask yourself, what was so good about this place? And you want to love being back so much, you want to feel the way you remembered feeling there, but you can’t. And place after place, you realize you grew up. And you don’t really know if you like the way that feels, either.