It is very easy to overanalyze. To hear a word or two and spin them out into an entire novel. To let one’s imagination run wild into avenues that will never be. It is easy to do these things, and to live there, in that moment just ahead of now, in a future that shimmers and shifts and slides, a future built on a foundation of shadows of dreams.

It is easy to confuse what you know to be true with what you wish to be true, but it is very hard to disentangle the two.