By the time I have the nerve to post this, I’ll probably be 26 years old.

\I’m dying. I don’t know exactly how or when or where, just that I am.

As are we all.

I have been aware of this for almost all of my life, but for some reason it’s been hitting me very hard lately.

I wish this was a better motivator for me to finish my book or travel or something, but I think it does the opposite. Not depress me, but rather just incapacitate me.

Okay, yeah, I can read..

Anyway. I know this is a really short one, but I really needed t update. I wanna try to start updating every other week in some form.

Also, today (and this is becoming all too common) , I had to stop myself mid-act from doing something that I was doing simply because I wanted to do it. (I ought to explain — I was going down an unfamiliar street in downtown Edmonds. It was a really sunny day and my sunglasses broke on the way there. I had gone two out of the five blocks to the nearest coffee shop. I stopped at the street corner and looked at the terrain in my future (well, tried to look. You know, sun). I spent the next couple minutes debating myself, and I finally turned around and went back the [mostly uneventful] way I had some.) You may or may not know that I really like to do what I want. Because it makes me happy. And because I can. And, I guess, because I’m dying.

See you in a couple weeks!


P.S. Yes, I am 26 years old.

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