Life’s time is slipping away like clouds torn by storm‑wind in the far sky— too fast to grasp, too fast to shape, too fast even to name. I’ve lost my sense of time all at once. Forgotten sleep. Living like a sin— wide awake, mostly, yet unaware of what I’ve done in those. Life has become a movie on a screen: uncontrollable, in its own scripted pace. distant, detached, dead and different. I sit there watching it unravel before my eyes, a corpse as a audience. It’s a feeling of unease, I can’t quite place. An emotion without a name. Something between madness and mystery, something between surviving and collapse. Perhaps it’s myself I’ve never faced, or my own life I’ve never met. Two decades I have lived, perhaps two more I will. I remember days that felt like weeks; now the same sun, the same moon feel like a split shift. No—nothing good has happened. Perhaps I lost perception. Perhaps I lost my mind. I wonder if I’m going to die soon. Not afraid of death— it would be the best present life could give. But I don’t want to die like this: spending my tears naming every misery, unable to name my final days; losing myself before I lose my life.