I hope I die before another wasted conversation.

I hope I die before another wasted conversation.

Before I have to muster up the worthless words I mumble when I do.

The energy given and exchanged, yet not a single ounce of emotion conveyed.

Auto-piloting precious breath and time for something not even recorded by our own memory.

Time that is finite. Wasting away into the void where everything falls into a slumber.

I hope I die before someone asks me again how I’m doing without actually wanting to hear the truthful response.

I would much rather give that gift to the gods.