First Day

Little pieces of me are falling off

I don’t feel….right; normal.

How old was I when someone told me that my life would end?

Would I have lived forever if I’d never heard of death?

I cannot run.

I cannot jump.

I can no longer surprise myself, except for the level of pain I’m able to endure and still function as a contributing member of society…

I am angry at God and I don’t care if he knows it.

I get scared when I miss the occasional breath.

Missed breath aside, I’m actually scared all of the time.

I drive by a cemetery. I pay it no mind.

I will be there soon, under a stone, beneath plastic plants.

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