every day feels like a dream now. i watch seconds, minutes, hours go by—i barely notice. the only thing i notice now is myself. i watch my step, i bite my tongue, i make sure not to leave my mark on anything—when i’m gone i’ll be a distant memory, there will be no proof i ever was, that i ever lived.
thinking about dying is familiar, i’m drawn to it because it’s something i know, something i’ve always known. thinking about living—about the future—makes death seem even more comfortable. living is unknown, unexpected, unprepared. with every breath i take i can’t imagine what is coming next, and it terrifies me. my entire life i’ve needed to be prepared, to be ready, but it’s never been something i could have.
my entire life is a paradox—i can’t control what happens inside me, so i try to control the world.
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“i can’t control what happens inside me, so i try to control the world.”
Sounds familiar, and impossible. But I get it.