8 Jun 4705 - It Is About Time

In four hours I shall awaken from sleep, and after a short discussion with myself, succumb once again to the void. I will remember their faces.
In thirty-four hours I will attend Regionals at GMU for Magic, because I had been planning for this and as a geek, it is one of the things that I do. I'll go 3-3 and drop, growing tired of making poor play decisions because my mind is elsewhere.
In four-hundred thousand years, even the carbon that once belonged to my body will be distorted and changed, an infinitesimal dot resting on another infinitesimal dot in a corner of nowhere surrounded by unfathomable forces and gentle silent stillness.
In billions upon trillions of years, the electrons that once made up part of my being will be scattered across impossible distances, spinning in harmony up until the split second fated since electrons emerged that witnesses them losing their fundamental charge, changed a final time from form into formlessness. Home.

After that time, I will, maybe, have lost my stubborn streak. But don't call me a clock-watcher, and certainly don't hold me to a promise I can't keep.

Just need to clear my head. Though I remember the feeling (from my past this time, don't be cross), it has never quite been this way.

Arse! I need to stake the tomatoes.

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