I used to love early morning. Like, it’s a new day. The conversations on anything. The closeness. The feeling. As if it will never end. Not wanting to close my eyes. Not wanting it to end.
Just another day.
To every beginning there is an ending. Just like one’s life. Birth. Death. This is how it feels. Yeah, dramatic. But, how do I know that death feels like this? Or, does death have any feeling at all? Haha…
Is this the end? I even don’t know. It does feel like it though. A slow ending. My feelings are like in slow motion. Reacting so slowly to the pain. Part letting go. Part denying, still fighting. Trying to say to myself, “it’s just a dream”. But, it is real. No matter how I try to believe it’s not.
I have to understand.
I have to accept.
No other choice, is there?
Is there even the slightest chance?
Not to fix, but to start over. Fresh. From the beginning.
I don’t know.
Maybe. Maybe not.