Each day people die. Each day people are born. Each moment could be our last. Each moment could be our first. Just because we are alive does not mean that we are living. This is what haunts me. What if today is my day? What if we are here and have no say in when we leave this place? I have so many goals in life, and these goals cannot even start to be completed until I am finished my education.
I often lie awake at night with my eyes closed trying to pass into my unconscious. In this blackness the world is painted on the canvas which is my mind. I am unable to forget my worries, they are brought to life. Colour is given to them, each thought and want is played out before me. My eyes become a theatre for the occupants of my head. Then eventually the film becomes warm as the reel ignites, a burst of white then the theatre goes black; the occupants flee.
As I wake the camera starts recording once again. I feel a lack of motivation for the majority of my days. This I do not understand, I try to think back to when I was younger, to when my friends and I would spend our time during recess kicking a soccer ball against the public school walls. I never tried hard in school. I enjoyed the social part of the institution, not the educational part of the brick prison.
Today could be my last. Today could be my first.
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