Thursday, July 16

I need more time. I need more time. I need more time.

I'm running out of time. Dear Universe, please don't let me run out of time.

I don't want to die. There are so many things I have to fix before I do, so many things I have to put back into place.

Please, give me more time.

It's funny. I feel myself dying and it worries me. I'm worried. I'm worried that I'm foreshadowing my own death with all of this anxiety. I'm worried that there will be things I've never said or done or felt. I'm worried that this will be my end and I'll have amounted to nothing.

Tell me I'm being silly. Tell me I'm being irrational.

Tell me that the moon and the stars and the planetary orbits promise me enough time.

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