At the end – a poem At the end I am emptied out I am numb I am a shell of myself Is this bad? Is this the true end? Or is this the end of who I used to be? Of how I used to relate to the world? All of this death, theseContinue reading “At the end”
At the end – a poem At the end I am emptied out I am numb I am a shell of myself Is this bad? Is this the true end? Or is this the end of who I used to be? Of how I used to relate to the world? All of this death, theseContinue reading “At the end”
PhD in Being Me