They say we all die twice. The day we expire. And the day the last person who really knew us, says our name for the last time. Though I am but a single servant of fate in the most insignificant of ways, I strive to love what I can in this world of so few decent moments. I try to be true in the midst of our cosmic riptide that brought me to the edge of my own free breath. My time is but a instant. Here or there in this world of never ending time, I no longer believe in a linear existence. I am born and dead and young and old all within my own single space. Life is hard to comprehend when the squeeze of a trigger ends a life and even the truest form of love doesn't survive a fortnight. With this epiphany, I strive to only be a shadow because without acknowledgement of self, I neither live nor die. I am but spectral observer, budding anew at end of all things.