everything happening all at once

my world exploded

not into a million little pieces

but into great shards of excitement, fear, pain, stress, disbelief, and love

 

and I find myself thinking:

has my luck ran out?

is this explosion the beginning of the end?

has the precarious balance of my life

been distorted?

 

or is this another awe-inducing moment

that lends itself to a happy ending

of a book that will never be written

but probably should?

 

Time no longer passes.

I use my time,

I experience my time,

I feel my time.

 

I might feel like I’m drowning.

but breaths I catch when I pull myself to the surface,

fill my lungs with the sweetest air

that I will ever taste.

 

I’m not living to write a book about my life.

but my thirst for experience is creating a life

that a book could be written about.

And I feel proud.

 

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