02-11-2026
©2025 BTMT-TJ
I have started to realize that I am living on borrowed moments
in a world that was never promised to me.
I move through my days as if time belongs in my hands,
as if I can hold it still long enough to understand it.
Yet it has never been mine to keep.
I breathe as though the air will always return,
as though there will always be another morning,
another chance to say what I meant to say.
Each breath feels steady and reliable
until the moment it catches,
until I am reminded how fragile it all is.
I treat goodbyes like distant events,
something scheduled far ahead on a calendar I have not opened.
Then one day they arrive without announcement,
quiet and irreversible,
and I am left standing in the space
where certainty used to live.
.
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