In the End, We are Alone

Everyone has to make it through life on their own.

Pain sits like a defiant child in a messy bedroom.

Sometimes the minutes take decades to complete.

Second by second. Breathe by breathe.

Tic-toc. Tic-toc.

There is this thing I wanted to tell you about, but I couldn't quite find the words... It was a thought. Well more like feeling. I tried to write it down. I could send it to you, and you would read it slowly. But the words just didn't seem muscular enough to carry the meaning that I wanted to put into them.

I am going through something. 38 days, 11 hours, and 24 minutes....

I am always going through something.

History weighs like a nightmare on the brains of the living.... Marx said that.

I wonder what he meant.

So I wrote a few words, I taped them to my chest.

I stood up in my bed and tried to recite them from memory.

This time I am going to live more openly. This time I am going to be even more vulnerable.