running away from death

8 years ago, I have come close to death at the hands of someone. Life has never been the same since

When you cross to the other side, you never come back completely, and it's something I've come to, ironically, learn to live with.

This feeling of not really being alive. Of simply wandering in the world of the living, seeing everyone walk around me while I stand still. I have come to understand it, to internalise it, to a point where I don't believe I can get rid of it anymore.

It should've been the end back then, but it wasn't. by some sort of "luck" I happen to see new days, new wakeups, new bedtimes, new wonders and new boredoms I shouldn't be privy to. My days came and passed by, my time is done, yet I still linger on.

but now I am sick, I have always been sick but it gets worse and worse by the day. the doctors are wondering how long I still have, and I wonder too, but not for the same reasons.

they want to let me see more days, I want to embrace the end. I've made peace with it. I already lived years that weren't mine, I am lucky in a way.