00:01
I feel sick now and awfully lethargic. I think I may die. I am going to sleep.

00:23
I was being dramatic. I shan't die... not yet, anyway.
But someday I will, and so will you. Your pages will rot and melt into the ground, and no one will read you. And your paper will grow into trees and my words the leaves, and won't they be blown by the wind, and those leaves die? But that is words, and thoughts, and feelings. They are not everlasting, but they are certainly thought again, and felt again, and said again, and again, and again...