When I am with family and friends, we’re having a great time. Smiling, laughing, and escaping life. That’s why they want to see more of me, I hope. I mean, that’s why I want to see more of them. I love them.

Here’s the thing, though. More time does not mean better time. It just means more. That’s it. And quite often, more just leaves you feeling like you’ve had too much. Fun becomes boring. New becomes old. Strong becomes weak. Empty becomes full. And yes, good can become bad.

Personally, I always want to feel like I need more, not less. Don’t you? It’s why I stop reading at a good part in the book, stop writing when I have more say, and tell you no when I really do enjoy seeing you. It’s a painful lesson that life has been trying to teach me for as long as I can remember.

It’s true: every moment of life is never to be seen again. It’s that very idea that makes spending time with people you love so precious. The hour ends, day fades, and night turns to morning. Believe me, I’ve tested this theory more times than I’m willing to admit. It all ends, eventually.

If we’ve ever shared a drink together, a laugh, or maybe even a cry, then I probably love you. I know that without question. I can’t wait to do it again some time. But is it possible we’re seeing just the right amount of each other?

And rather than more time, maybe all we need is more appreciation.

*This article is part of the ongoing Morning After series: short, reflective pieces on thoughts, feelings, and ideas about life. They’re kind of like well-manicured journal entries, written the morning after a night out.