Tick.
The ticking is all I can hear these days. Every second is another tick until the ticking fills my head and strangles me. You would think I would be used to it after sixteen years. Sixteen years and two clocks steadily ticking away. Sixteen and two makes eighteen. But eighteen isn't important at all. Things that aren't important waste my time. My time is ticking away. I'm going to die. I know I'm going to die.
[updating slowly, but surely]
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❝why do humans alone feel the need to
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀record the past,
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The world comes to a change, as Heleana, Jaxon, Pemdas, Analise, and the new baby take on, their new challenges... What awaits them can help, or hurt. Nobody knows... Because nobody, is nobody...
Time - a man-made measurement of something that exists in the ethereal sense - or the minds of the insane - who hear the constant tick and tock of the clock.... What is real?