No one tells you how fast it happens.
One day you’re laughing in a kitchen.
The next you’re standing over a bed,
counting breaths like they’re coins.
And suddenly time isn’t elastic anymore.
It’s brutal.
Finite.
A fuse burning down.
You don’t know which goodbye will be your last.
And silence never says it quite right.
You think you’ll have more chances.
Another call.
Another night.
Another morning to say
what you swallowed yesterday.
But sometimes yesterday was the last chance.
And the words rot in your mouth.
Most of your life is borrowed hours.
Loaned to you by luck.
By lungs that still fill.
By people who still wake up.
And one day,
the loan gets called back.
No warning.
No extension.
Just gone.
And somewhere in the dark,
Thom Yorke whispers—
breathe, keep breathing, don’t lose your nerve.
But nerve doesn’t stop the clock.
Love doesn’t stop it.
Even god can’t.
So what will outlive you?
The apologies you never spoke?
The love you never risked?
Or the one hour
you gave everything
knowing it might be the last?
Because when it ends—
and it always ends—
you won’t be judged
by how long you lasted.
Only by how deeply you lived.
// Scorpio Veil