a wave is crashing over me. it is covering me, enveloping me, soothing me. it is becoming me. it is comfort, it is warmth, it is everything good in the world:
it is
thunderstorms from windowsills and screen doors in the summertime, heavy droplets hitting my face and arms and getting goosebumps from the chilly, wet wind as i wonder at the dangerous beauty of weather.
sunlight streaming as heat onto my back while at the same time, a cool breeze ruffles my hair and i twirl in the shine and refuse to go inside, instead choosing to revel in the perfect weather.
the sound of a book cover cracking the first time i open it to inhale the smell of paper and ink, promising to myself that no matter how i change, this smell will always remain my favorite.
my cat pressed up against my leg, a comforting weight that never feels oppressive, even when it is sitting on my chest; a presence that, no matter how old, will always be there when i wake up or go to sleep or cry or have to say goodbye.
the wave holds me, reminding me of why life is beautiful and for an instant i am filled with regret that my list of wonderful experiences is so short.
because the wave is death.
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