they hear the whisper, but i feel the screams
It's been 4990 days since I realized how devastatingly thin the line between life and death is.
*cover photo by Michael Schreiber on Unsplash*
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It's been 12,600 days since I was birthed into this planet on what I assume was a frigid January day in 1990. It's been 4990 days since I fell asleep at the wheel after a sustained period of sleep deprivation during my sorority pledging process. It's been 4990 days since my linesisters died. Math has never been my strong suit, but I've spent a third of my life living with this crater in my gut. A hunger for not just help but hope. I've spent a third of my life adjusting to a new normal that still doesn't feel right, and I doubt it ever will. I've spent over a third of my life wishing to go back and undo what one fateful instant made real. It has been 4990 days since I realized how devastatingly thin the line between life and death actually is.
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