Breathing Is Optional, But I Need Some

I Feel An Unfamiliar But Pleasant Sensation In My Lips, Tugging Them Upward. This Is... New.

There Is No Ideal World For You To Wait Around For. The World Is Always Just What It Is Now, And It's Up To You How You Respond To It.

Here It Comes. My Inevitable Death, Ignoring Me All Those Years When I Wished For It Daily, Arriving Only After I've Decided I Want To Live Forever.

He Is Spent. His Mind Is Mercury Again, Its Brief Surge Of Humanity Melting Into An Oily Residue On Its Surface, And He No Longer Understands The Feelings He Felt In That Strange Moment On The Overpass. But He Did Feel Them. They Did Happen. They Rest On The Murky Seabed Of His Mind, Buried Under Sand And Silt And Miles Of Grey Waves. Patient Seeds Waiting For Light.

Peel Off These Dusty Wool Blankets Of Apathy And Antipathy And Cynical Desiccation. I Want Life In All Its Stupid Sticky Rawness.