As the world ends, I sit here and think about life. How have I lived, what it's been worth, this flash of an eye sack of flesh and bones.
How I'll miss cigarettes, chocolate, libraries, coffee, dry socks, pushing 102 down dry creek road.
The questions I have now seem a little irrelevant: did I love enough; did I love the right people; did I love myself in a way that demonstrates the capacity of demonstrative lifetime evolution for an accountable homo sapien?
I fear, yes
fuck you, I am sorry
I am sorry, fuck you
yes, I fear
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