I’m still around. Counting the days. Listening to that inner clock, tick tock, tick tocking away. I wish I could hear it winding down. It’s an never ending repetition though. Just like life, even the wait for the end is a never ending disappointment. Will the last day sneak up on me or will I see it coming days or weeks away? Really none of that matters. All that matters is that it does get here and quickly. I dreamed a dream of dying a few nights ago. But it was a lie. I woke up alive the next morning. I’ve heard so many people say it’s a blessing to wake up every morning. It’s a curse. I think I would like to see my death coming. I want to know how I would greet it. With open arms and rejoicing, or with resistance? I don’t think I would fight it. Buy I wonder. The violence I have become accustomed to, would indicate that I would fight, but I do not think I would fight very hard. I just want it to be done. The ashes are too bitter on my tongue.