Floaters crawl across an overcast sky. Maybe your retinas are about to detach. One day, you won’t be able to see anyway. A cramp in your calf wakes you in the middle of the night. Feels like a mountain lion’s teeth ripping meat from bone. One day, you won’t be able to walk anyway. Hollowness erupts in your wrist halfway through typing an email. You bend and stretch to fill the void. One day, you won’t be able to type anyway. A feeling in your chest like an icepick in your heart. Each breath hurts. Is it your heart? Your lungs? One day, you won’t be able to breathe anyway. You can’t remember the word that describes this feeling. It’s behind a fog rolling over a harbor. One day, you won’t be able to remember anyway.
A Logical Conclusion of Hypochondria
Published
M. Espinosa 
I know these are all not great things to be thinking, but it is very easy to catastrophize about every little thing, especially when it comes to aging 😬
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Totally! That’s the feeling I was going for!
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(One day, you won’t be able to remember anyway)
that is one pretty line, it is kind of comforting to forget too.
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Thank you so much!
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Truth poetically spoken. Reminds me of the 1971 Cat Stevens song, Moonshadow, but without the silver lining. 🙂
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Thank you so much! And you’re so right! I hadn’t listened to Moonshadow before, but I did after reading your comment, and the structure is so similar! It’s really neat to see those connections.
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