Count Down

eighteeneighteeneighteen

My lips are dry and I am parched. The same melody repeats over and over again in my head, out of my phone. There are no thoughts of my own that I can write down, no emotions I can decipher.
The course of life terrifies me.

Everything can be a choice, any sound can eventually become noise. That fact is still something I have to learn. Sometimes fear is just fear. Everyone dies.
Everyone dies alone.

I don’t want to be alone.

A lot of time has passed since 1986.
I now have eighteeneighteeneighteen kids.

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