that seems to sum me up, in a way I did not wish for or expect. Who would want to be less, in his right mind?
The only one true friend of mine is my death, that sour lover that keeps insinuating herself in a million moments, whispering "embrace me, you shall never be good enough, put paid to this charade for once and all".
How I wish I could heed the call, howl one last time as I dissolve into the dreamless slumber of oblivion. To leave the earth in order to become a part of it.
Look at the clouds. Our forebears smile at us from there, their tears nourishing the fertile soil.
One day, that'd be me, only I will not know.
