Everyone is born with a terminal disease. Life has a hundred percent mortality rate. Sometimes that life is long, and sometimes horrifyingly short. But there is no cure for that mortality.
Sometimes I live as thought there is. As if I have infinite time. Infinite possibilities. Infinite chances. But I don’t have any of those things.
Sometimes you have to wake up from that stupor and shake yourself and ask yourself the question. Whatever that question may be. And you either evolve a little bit, or die a little bit.
I have a few questions in my mind. And it’s time to wake up.