Prayer to Self

The slow motion star-field rotates before me, framed by my misted remlok. My laboured breathing is deafening in the silence. I have run out of time.

I wait…

I always suspected it was complete bullshit, there’s no flashing before your eyes, no fast-forward replay of your life. Nothing.

So this is it. The End.

What a pointless waste of toil. Years of upholding the pretence of contentment, stuck in the same repeated patterns, striving for the perfect life.

Now I know the truth, you can’t get there, it’s not for sale. You lie to everyone, you lie to yourself.

I wish I’d let myself be happier.