apocalypse now

how long can you count on your fingers and toes before you lose track of how many times you've used each hand and foot?

the days and weeks and months and years are winding by, serving as a reminder to every walking bag of calcium and tissue of the finite nature of the universe. your days are numbered, as are mine. it's a beautiful thing.

every year of my life seems shorter than the last. the last three years have flown by. i can't remember what it was like to be thirteen anymore, or sixteen for that matter. my awkward days have successfully been repressed, along with most of the day to day occurrences of my adolescence.

where did the time go? where did that girl go?

how many questions arise as a result of the progression of time? our seemingly human need for a sense of a higher being.. is that just a result of needing to feel that there's something beyond the end of our days? does the finite nature of the universe scare you? is it easier to rest assured that the universe is massive. beyond the comprehension of our intelligence? does that make it easier to get old, easier to die?

what answers will prove satisfactory? what will provide comfort? how to fulfill those basic human needs- the food, shelter, water. all the tenets of life itself, or rather the sustenance of life. what will be enough? what what what?

and i said, don't worry baby. everything will turn out all right.