How will it come?

At some point there are things you must accept you'll never know. The memories of a dead loved one A past no one recorded. The thought we've never shared. At some point you realize you should have never hidden yourself. Fuck what "they" think. Fuck it being uncomfortable. Fuck you. Eventually you realize it's too fucking late. The regrets will always outweigh the goods. The losses will overcome the wins. The time left is so much left than the time wasted. And then it ends. Sometimes mercifully. Sometimes devistatingly. But it comes... I wonder how it will come to me?