Living dead

I fear living dead. Existing without feeling; moving around without really going anywhere; having thoughts without truly thinking. This, as I have for the last seven years - time that has passed by like a flash within a thunderstorm, for only within the space in between life and death does the nature of time reveal itself.

While alive the moment expands, as if the mind is infinite and nothing that is composed of matter comes in between will and desire.

But in death - as in the destruction of the moment - this perceived space constricts and the mind's only goal quickly becomes that of reaching the end.

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