Is it mine to carry?
Life is short.
Too short sometimes.
I know, I know, I’m enunciating platitudes.
And yet.
It’s so fricking true.
Last Saturday, my bestie’s husband died.
After a short, yet painstakingly long disease.
At 56 years old.
I’m 56.
Fuck.
So that can be it?
Life can be over.
Just like that.
Life can be short.
Waking call to be, do and have whatever I’m dreaming of…
Today.
Beca…
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