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broke your throne
2009-03-02 - 12:45 a.m.

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I enjoy when the calm comes over me, but it usually leads to the fear again. On quiet walks home from campus, I make myself stop where I'm standing to break the spell of any predetermined motion. Stay still and breathe for a second, look up at a sky without much in it. I can get rid of winter for that moment.

I can't stop thinking about the final plunge, though. Anyone would tell me that I have ages till I take it, but God in heaven, what's beneath the surface? I used to be able to tell myself that what might happen afterwards doesn't matter now. As I'm sitting here, typing this this this this intensity blooms inside of me and I imagine what happens as the lights dim and I think that I won't care much because my breathing will slow and the oxygen will stop traveling to my organs and my brain will shut down and I'll stop. Just like I did in the dentist's chair. I will never have existed. The faintest glimmer of hope inside of me wishes that I'd float through the ceiling, finally through the roof, open my eyes as a screaming infant, a kitten, a bird, any being without the words in its head to describe the circularity that I've just experienced. None of the hope, none of it changes the constant realization, everyday remembering that everything I'm thinking, saying, feeling, making, that

all of this is going to end someday.

I'm sorry if this becomes a burden on anyone else's thoughts.

earlier - later