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Still here. Not sleeping.

I remember that day, the last day, the last time, the last everything. I remember hello’s and good-bye’s. I remember regrets. I remember feelings, sensations and touches.  I remember all of it.

There are times when I can’t breathe, when I can’t catch my breath. When I can’t find my way ahead. When it feels like it’s all in vain. When it feels like I finally overstepped my destiny. Went to far.  Exceeded the speed limit.  Took too much.

And then there are times when I feel like there isn’t enough time to do what I have yet to do.  To feel what I have yet to feel.  To be heard. To be seen. To be the person that I couldn’t be back then, because I didn’t know that she existed. I didn’t know that she was possible.

And there are times that I lay away at night, in the darkness, and the quiet, and I just breathe.  Inhale. Exhale. Repeat. Until finally my body falls away from my mind, and I am able to drift off for three hours before  I have to get up again.

And I know that this is what is supposed to be, otherwise, I would not be compelled.  I just don’t know why.

And therein lies the adventure.  I am still here. Living. Loving. Falling. Landing. Feeling. Numbing. Breathing. But not sleeping. 

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