Iâve tried countless times to rid my mind of unnecessary thoughts. Iâve counted to 10. I told myself I was enough, but I always question how true that is. Iâm about to be 30 with nothing more than the thoughtless presents of an age I didnât think Iâd make it to crushing closer and closer. For what do I owe the pleasure? Dying younger would have been an uproar to the ones I love, sureâthere is no doubt about that. They would have missed my ridiculous jokes, my insane laughter, my unattractive need for attention. But all I can think about is how unburdened theyâd be. How relaxed theyâd be. How theyâd get over it and would probably be good now. Selfish, yes, but I d k. Iâm just thinking that in order for me to have more and give back, I may need to leave this world.
















