Last night I dreamt I was 22 and for some reason, it scared me.

I felt my youth slip away and instead of feeling liberated, I felt trapped; bound by a death that’s soon to come.

I don’t mind dying, just dying too soon.

And it feels like my time is coming. Every morning I wake up to a new loss and yet I’m too busy looking ahead to notice the edge of my own reckoning. I always think I’ll last longer — then I trip and the cliff doesn’t catch me.

I fall.

God, catch me.

Don’t let them convince me you left me.

You left me?

Dear God, can you hear me?

Dear God, are you near me?

Dear God, can you save me?

Dear God, can you —


I had a dream I turned 22. Checked the date and it’s true. Dear God —

What do I do?

God, what do I do?


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