I want to scream if I can make the most of each day, hour, moment, because they tick away before my eyes. I hate every new day finishing because in my perception there was more that could have been done with it and made of it. Trying to appreciate what has been done but my brain hankers for more every evening, and I dread sleeping because its as though admitting defeat that my day day has not been the best it could have, and my mind constantly ticks at how I could have made it better.