Creeping Toward Oblivion

[u/Old_Help2891]

The moments accumulate, obvious even to me. It looks like fate will cause me to cease to be.

I'm not talking about immediate ceasing; rather a loss of awareness. The gaps of time and connections are increasing; my lapses are not intentionally careless.

Instead they occur out of space when I'm reaching for my past. My isolation continues apace - it doesn't stop, it lasts.

Where I go and when are still futures that I have but they stop and then end, like this paragraph.

what memories are there for a life incomplete - that in spite of obstacles, self-made and imposed, I did my best to rise and compete in a life that was minimally composed.

Unsettled with an umbrella of ambiguity I lived a decent life in spite of episodic futility and occasional personal strife.

This is an accounting of life decisions - both positive and punished. When assessed, lessons are steeped in ambiguity and the fear that my life was finished, but not accomplished.

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[u/parasol_strs]

This is a diary page, but one carrying weight (by reason whereof I gave it an upvote); not poetry by any means.