September 11, 2016

Thoughts of death swirl around my head as soothing whispers promising sweet oblivion. And I have to stop myself from going back to bed and disappearing under the duvet.
Sleep is a step too close to the oblivion I seek and yet not close enough. It’s all or nothing for me and so rather than futilely welcome death, I will sit here and try to feel alive. I will watch that comedy I have watched ten times over and I will laugh even if it comes out hollow. I will laugh goddamn it!

Journal: Oct.26.2020
Made of Sand
Not Dura, but Alaminadura

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