Something in me snaps. Its hard to see her close to dying. Will she die? Never know. Will she live? Never know. Who knows what the night holds for each of us? Will we ever know?
The dirge I carry is not in her (upcoming) passing away, but rather the infinite lapse of what could have been.
To me life has always been a set of possibilities. In that sense, I am a deep optimist, who will continue to see the possible upside in circumstances that are held in a sieve (yes, even in those hopeless games).
By the same coin, I sometimes see nothing but the long end of the tunnel. Of what was lost. What is being lost.
The realization that we never wrote the story that we could have written.
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