I’ve come to a point in my life where thoughts are a burden. I think a lot about the passage of time. About what ‘forever’ truly means. Honestly, it scares me. It terrifies me. I don’t believe we stop existing when our bodies die. I’ve never believed that, but at the same time I don’t believe any religion is necessarily wrong. It doesn’t feel right to look at someone and say “You’re eternally damned because *insert petty reason here*” I don’t think a creator of so many vastly different things would set such trivial rules. I do believe you reap what you sew, and that what you give is what you will get.
But getting back to the idea of time. I fall asleep in my bed on Monday, and wake up at Friday. At least, that’s what it feels like anymore. I remember being a child, and sitting there…
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The Pursuits of Porsha 