life goes on.
it's strange, and I know --I hope-- that someday it will go on even when I am not there. it is both easy and difficult to grasp, this object permanence of the soul. so it is, so it goes - Atlas
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I felt it again.
that awful lurch, seeing him put that pink syringe into the catheter linked to your leg. you're still alive, I thought. you're still alive, we can save you. but I stayed silent and motionless except for my hand, which stroked your side. you are here you are here you were here. maybe sometimes saving someone looks like a pink syringe. I don't know. you are beyond all help or hurt now. farewell, my friend. - Atlas how many times
will we share the same moon there have already been so many, just not infinitely many and thus it is too few so things change. - Atlas & yet I can never quite tell
when my mind crosses from wakefulness into the misted realm of dreams there must have been some precipice, somewhere I have crossed it every day of my life and yet my feet somehow forget its shape hmm - Atlas isn't it funny
how much we change, and grow? isn't it funny how our blind spots stay the same, plain as day for anyone who isn't us to see hrmm - Atlas it is so strange
to watch the world transform beneath a sunrise. I am so used to watching it slip into darkness and stay there, only to vanish like magic upon waking from a dream that watching it illuminate inch by lovely inch felt equal parts enchanting and alien. so this is what the early birds were talking about (and!! I saw a rocket launch!!) - Atlas and slowly but surely,
the dark shapes gave way to dawn. things once unknown became known to me, and I proceeded with a surer step than my past self, shrouded in darkness could ever believe. hmm - Atlas the smell of the sea--what is it, really?
salt, water, fish all the things that live in it it curls around me, follows me home. my dreams are filled with it. hm - Atlas I always feel like
I have more time than I do. I find all endings surprising, in their own way, even if I really should have seen them coming. T.T - Atlas I don't suppose
I'll ever set foot in there again. never see the morning light coming in through the window, never fiddle with the lamp to get it to come on, never curl up on the couch it's strange to realize that however my human experience turns it will likely never take me back to that place. and even if it does, it won't be the same. but in order for time to pass it has to Pass, you know? - Atlas |
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