Right before the end

There's a moment for most of us, where in a brief instant, a flash, we decide we want off the ride. It is only a moment, both eternal and passing. It may be the moment we decide we like a Christian song, or say that a certain Cali-burger chain is better than remembered. The moment, however brief, trivial and frozen, remains certain - both a crystalized fabrication and a fluid truth. We only want off the ride because it was going so well, how could it come to this? And now that we're down, could it really get better from here?

Suddenly the ride stops, and the moment having passed, only serves to inform this gut wrenching feeling that we've lost something so profound, so valuable, that it's worth waiting in line for again. Is there such a thing as good fear? Bad comfort? If we were young forever, wouldn't we have to be numb even longer?