9 days 1 hour 24 minutes
I imagine myself as a frightened Donnie Darko. Sweet time falling as sand through my fingers–no matter how tight the fist is clenched–the sand continues to fall. And my knuckles are white.
My hands tremble as my mind searches for the proper words to type in anticipation of…this. A soul filled with despair. A soul filled with dread. A doomed soul.
Maybe the misgivings are minimized, perhaps the panic played down–but the conclusion is coming. The end which we see.
I agree with you, this makes no sense. It was no better in my head. But perhaps that’s the point..? A trail of breadcrumbs to the broken heart. The day which we are torn apart.
Summer is nigh.