Sometimes I think I just can’t hardly wait. I’ve agreed to meet her and I just wish the car would drive faster. Unhealthy, these insatiable desires. These hopes for the future that only hurt if you let them hold onto you long enough. Shake them. Breathe them out. Breathe in the subtle present—this we trade too readily for a future that can’t possibly match our hopes; a future that is really just a present yet to pass. All we really have are presents.