During childhood and adolescence, there wasn't a part of me that thought about my future in a long-term way. I never gave too much thought about marriage, having children, or what I wanted to do as a career. I guess you can say I was lucky to have fallen into a life that could've suited me well. I was married into a well-off family. My ex and I talked about kids and even picked out names that I can't remember anymore. I think my not recalling those names now is telling of how uninvested I was in the idea of being a mom. I played along anyway.

I felt like I had to get through one event to make it to the next for most of my life. There was always one more move to make, one more change to adjust to, one more problem to fix or solve or avoid altogether. It's so incredibly exhausting living one day at a time.

There is, however, an advantage of feeling like your entire life is happening in the span of your day. I observe and feel so much, but that's rewarding. There's a lot of good that happens in my orbit of the universe.

Do you know what it feels like to speak to the sky without saying a word and have it show you a response through colors or clouds in return?

I love the moon in each of her phases; the night sky protects me from many places that I'm not ready to face yet. The chill seeping into the air reminds me to care for the parts of me that are leaking into the world—existing as presently as possible is a great way to remain intentional. I am going to die just like the leaves on the trees, fading before I go. My life's cycle is longer than three seasons. Though, what if a part of me can die now? I'd like that. This ego of mine is one I could do without. I want silence and solitude to achieve my goal of Ego Death.

Perhaps after that part of me dies, I'll be able to be a better friend. Consistent, confident, communicative.

Two more days.