There's a lump in my throat that has been constantly rising and falling for the last few days. Sometimes I barely notice it and other times I have to choke it back. This lump is a constant reminder of the change that will happen- must happen. The change that will leave everything different than it was before. There is no more constant, no more home to reset in, no more job to sluggishly go to daily. And I keep asking myself, "did I choose the right thing? Am I going to make it through this?" Maybe.
Truthfully, I don't want to. I don't want to go through it, I don't want to see how it goes. I want to fall asleep until it is over, or perhaps longer. To sleep perchance to dream. But aye, there's the rub, for in the sleep-like death there are no dreams, only darkness. And yet I can't help but somewhat crave that darkness, that dreamless state.
"Do I want to die?" Maybe.
YOU ARE READING
Thoughts
PoetryI have too many thoughts inside my head, but I can't get myself to tell anyone who might care.
