I’ve never been so awake, like being immersed in water so cold you can’t breathe. Where was the transition? Is life supposed to move so fast you are left in a kind of empty space with your spirit in purgatory while your body is off doing who-knows-what (or cares for that matter). It’s time to go, you can’t stay. Can you? Of course you can’t. Besides, who would want to? Could it be that death, the inbetween, is the reality, the splash of cold water that wakes us up and life itself is the dream, the blur inbetween?
(“Awake”: A 60 second freewrite prompt by oneword)