"They say when you look at the void, it looks back at you. But I have never seen it stare so intently and gaze so unnervingly. I realize that I teeter at the edge of an era—my prime. And then it slowly creeps on me . . . have I done so much? Have I fulfilled what I wanted to do during my prime? The forehead wrinkles, my knees buckle. Weakness and frailty have found their home within me. Again, the inescapable future of impending and permanent death draws near. And as much as I want to continue creating, it hits and it crashes once more, 'What's the sense of it all?'"
"But this question has already been asked and remains to be unanswerable, an enigma to you. For many decades, you grasp at it with shorter breaths. Is entertaining this question not holding you back from things you are truly capable of? Why not look at it from a different perspective?"
"How so?"
"Try a different question."
"Like?"
"Like . . . how should you go about facing off death—and life you have lived, the choices you have made, and the consequences you have endured—head on?"
YOU ARE READING
Midnight Monologues
General FictionShe is known as the writer who creates stories about how the concept of love is formulated, explored, and ultimately destroyed by her protagonist, borne out of their relationship with another character. What is not known by many is how much she has...
