Carry yourself back to yesterday’s dreams, the ones that demanded only a child’s enthusiasm or a feigned willingness to suspend the day’s disbelief. The years in between have whispered seductive lies, convincing us that time is plentiful and patient and tame.
It is none of those things.
While distractions may have dulled our pain, loneliness has warped our bodies. The nighttime now cradles our brokenness, and dreams best measure our losses. Even the horizon seems further from where we began.
Yet here we wait.
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