I know I won't. I was 7 years old, up early on a cold and crisp morning, still sleepy enough that my head bobbed from side to side in my drowsiness. That was when it happened, a special treat.

The local sandwich shop, I'd never been before, but I had smelt the sizzling inside from a mile away. I felt a rumble in my stomach. I could sense the magic approaching.

The next thing I remember was being handed a paper bag as big as my head, inside was a wide bap of fluffy white bread, the tips of bacon and sausages and egg breaking free of the edges, and egg yolk oozing out like the drool of a special needs child. I trembled with joy and, as I took that first bite, I new I could never turn around from this momentous point in my life.

But I fear that this was simply a setup to lifelong disappointment. Nothing I've eaten since has ever been as good as that cold morning in 2007. I thought I was beginning a journey of excitement, but instead, I was met with being acclimated to it, and I never enjoyed another bite nearly as much again. Is all of life but a glimpse into a future never to be enjoyed once you take that peak? My journey is that of a quantum particle, and I looked too early, saw what was to be and, in doing so, fundamentally altered my path to one never again to shine as bright as the present I had stood in.

All that hope was for nothing.