What of death?

My left lung feels like there’s lead in it. My head is not clear, my effort at paying attention comes and goes. No, I don’t have that one, but some other one. Is this what fading feels like?

I lay on the bed, looking through the window. The world is the same, starkingly beautiful. Yeh, I know that’s not a word. I don’t care. I’m tired of googling things. I’m tired.

Oh, yeh, I look through the window, into the sky, into the white patch that’s covered by 5% of my eyes, the mind makes up the rest. I notice the light’s fading in and out, in and out. I get curious, so maybe this is what dying feels like?

When the lung is not working properly, nothing much goes. I wonder if the lack of oxygen coursing through the body will make people stupider. But no, people are plenty stupid already. Case in point.

Is it my fault? What’s happening now? Did I wish for it? Is it a wakeup call? A cleansing? Nature’s thriving again. The seeds must be sowed, for the future. Why should I care?

I’m not afraid of death. I often say it would solve all my problems. That doesn’t stop me from romanticizing it though. Isn’t that what we do? Chocolate, sex, glitters, death.

I’m afraid of living with no purpose. And since I’m still breathing, with one lung, or 1 1/2, the work is not done.

All is well. Whatever that means.

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