how many times have you stood and looked out and looked out the window, cradling your mug of coffee with both hands, holding it under your chin so the rising steam warms your face? have you caught your reflection there, the eyes looking back at you, and have you thought, what am i doing here? has it scared you that the sink you lean against is your own? that the strewn utensils and dirty plates are yours as well? are you terrified because this is your life? at this moment you are alive, grown, and it is all really happening?
this is it, my dear
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