I blinked, and it was September

The months don’t move like they used to. These days I don’t measure time in hours or days, but by the vague awareness of changes around me: the air grows cooler, the light changes hue

Weeks slip past, like static between channels 

What marks the passage of time for me now is the unshakeable feeling that it is running out. A quiet pressure- something terrible just outside the corner of my mind

Hard to define, harder to ignore.

It lives in the wallpaper, in the hum behind screens, the silence between words