index | archives | notes Thursday, Apr. 21, 2011 6:01 a.m. << [ They're Loaded ] >> I wake up in the small hours now, always between five and six in the morning, four hours of sleep under my belt. I think about death a lot these days. All good things come to an end, they say, and things are so good right now. I wake in the small hours to watch him sleep, to preserve the moments we'll never have again. Someday I will die or he will die, or we will fall out of love. There is no unicorn into the sunset. There is no happy ending. I've been "spiritual" lately, asking god for favors because I like to have all my bases covered. His chest expands and contracts with breath, with life, and please let him be okay. I want to cloak him in my good luck so it can protect him the way it has me, but I don't know if god lets me loan out my good fortune like that. Even if he did, luck has to run out sooner or later, right? << | x | >> whatiscopyright.org