If I Die Young
If I ever stop writing, it means I’m dead.
I have a few aspects working against me. But don’t we all? My physical body (not in the greatest shape internally), my mind itself, and the odds I am to face at every corner.
I’ve come to understand that there are those who walk among the earth already dead; zombified in their way of habitual being and speaking. Constricted inside a box of the familiar, incurious of…