I stare at the world through a window; it is not real to me.
These little moments I have out here are precious, yet spent to discover that what I have lost. How does one hold on to little specks of sand that wait for the next gap in your fingers to escape?
I worry to think that all is lost. I try not to. Yet, what is the assurance otherwise?
I don't know what this feeling is, but it's not a nice one.. I need a break.
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