Life is tough. It’s not really the living, but the slowly dying that is hard.
We exist day in day out while slowly falling apart.
Always aware, always there. The darkness is around us. And sometimes you feel it.
On certain mornings it feels like I have to peel myself out of the darkness. A void inside and outside. The dark lump weighing me down.
Mostly growing. Rarely shrinking.
Some days the sun feels good on my skin, but then I realize, it’s slowly dying, too. Consuming itself.
The nothingness is infinitesimal.
Everyone you know will die. Everyone you love.
Everyone who brings light into your life will pass.
What drives us to be? To think, to breath, to walk, to do?
How does it make sense?
How does it?
How?
Why?
.