It's a constant, just forgotten by the layers of modern societal duty piled over it.
It feels like it's struggling to be fed and fighting for it's life under the mess and stress of the daily grind, that constant ache that feels like something is quietly dying, and I am sitting idly by and letting my life kill me.
The death and mourning happen simultaneously, as if this is all inevitable and unchanging.
Of course I know better.
I'm not afraid, either, so what is it?
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