I take the world in big gulps, attempt to see everything in
an instant, in all its magnificence, its beauty, its terribleness;
to take it in like it’s a drug-- dulling my senses and yet exciting
them, a calm euphoria spreading through my veins;

I feel it everywhere, in my brain, in my bones, in the world around
me, which I am a part of. My breathing gets so slow it almost
stops. I am not afraid. I am not afraid to die. But I want
to look around a little more. This world wasn’t made for me:

I am merely an observer. And yet bits of it fit so perfectly.
It is only by accident that this could have happened.
Good fortune is nearly always an accident, as is misfortune.
One cannot expect a natural order.

It is too much to ask for. Not even that: no one is taking
requests. All the same, all the same, I can choose to
a degree. I can choose to want it all, to accept it all.
Everything that happens to me is my own. I want it all.