There is life in the small moments.
I try not to use up my allotment of breath and heartbeat before another one comes.
I pace it out, put the softest parts in secret pockets.
Slow. Sloooow.
Diminishing, starving, thirsty. Getting smaller and drying up like an autumn leaf.

Then it comes. It’s a small thing, probably unremarkable.
It fills me up, it restores me. Pumps my blood. Softens my skin. Lights my eyes.
I see that i am not dying so much as i am living, and i wash myself in it. I take out my tender bits and put them back where they’re supposed to be.

And i tell myself. This. Now. Remember.
Another now will come. It will.
I promise.

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