• I’m standing on the edge of quaking limbs. Trying desperately to avoid the smell of coffee. My leg moves up and down while I try to use the sweet, sweet melody of music to calm my shaky breath….it doesn’t work. Number eight is what’s written on the tiny paper of hope. A number never seemed so far away.
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    You’ve don’t this before, you know what to do.
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    Calm down your heart, then breath some more.
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    Your time is now, there’s nothing to fix.
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    Wipe away your tears and face your fate.

    “I'll see you on the other side.”