Mortals, we are.

Sometimes I wonder if I will ever run out of things to say.

I sincerely hope not, because that would mean that I’ve become deficient in some manner or other.

I’m feeling reflective tonight, my great-uncle died in the morning of what is now yesterday. I think that a death makes everyone stop and take stock of what’s truly important.

I’m not certain that it’s sunk in yet. I feel, well that’s just it; I don’t know what to feel.

Should I say that I feel decidedly mortal? That I’m sad? That I cannot for the life within me think of something to say to my grandmother?

I think that sometimes the nature of the lives we lead is infinitely unfair.

I think I’ll just leave it at that.

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