That moment. The first moment. It’s always magical, surreal, it doesn’t even seem like it’s the truth, because floating on a cloud without a drug only happens ever so often. Because it’s the ability to feel high without being intoxicated. It’s the ability to feel the rush that sex can give you, based off a single look rather a physical touch. And the moment your ideas flow and your energy exchanges, the goosebumps on your arms all the way down to your legs, the lip biting, the long stares. Finding out just how compatible that energy exchange is, it’s bliss. But just as fast as those feelings come up, they can come down. The last moment. Etched into your memory like the last image of a loved one before the go over seas. Words replaying in your head, in your mind, constant like a song. Just like a song. The automatic connection to your heart, plucking at the strings hanging along it, pulling down, every pull, you wince with pain as the moving pictures flow into your head, eyes closed. Eyes open, recounting the experience before your very eyes, and the tears follow. The moment. The last moment. The moment when you’ve said your piece and they haven’t said a word. The last word in your mouth, sliding on your tongue, falling off your lips. The silence. The silence that hangs in the air. The space between is thick, but the space around is small. Crowded. The feeling in your external and internal. The pain just starting to grip the lowest part of your stomach. The last. The last image. Their backs. Turned away. What you started with is nothing like what you end up with. The truth is the first’s and the last’s stay with you, it will probably follow you forever, but the wonderful part about life is that our firsts and our lasts don’t have to be the last. We are constantly changing and creating new memories. We are always on the verge of a new discovery in this life, no matter how pleasurable or painful. The outcome consists solely on what we do with our experiences, and how we deal with it.