Existential Cookies

Existential crisis.

Life is precious.

Life slips by.
The days,
they blend together.
Hazy memories of yesterday;
what did I do?
Is not living like this an insult
to the very life I live,
to myself?
I baked cookies.

Perhaps existential crisis shall visit again.
Perhaps I will once again feel lost in a vast sea.
I don’t mind.
My cookie jar is with me, and I have milk.


About inkywaters

Just another semi-confused soul in the endless aether.

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