Run.

" I know that one day I won't be on this earth anymore. A world without the physical me- what will that look like? I'll seep down into the soil, become a plant, a tree; I'll be falling leaves, yellow, crunching under a child's feet until I am dust. Nothing. Gone. I write here, trying to explain, each word a stepping stone. These words illuminate my past; they bring me forward, to the future. They help me remember. Who I am, what I've been through. But most of all, where I'm going. I feel like a secret observer, separate from everything that goes on around me. Without my writing, I would suffer an emptiness worse than I feel now."