Spilt Soup

Dec 15 / 10 I make a cup of soup sit down in front of my computer .I open my eyes , I am sitting , leaning forward with my forearms on top of my legs . My hands still holding the cup , it’s contents spilt onto the floor in front of me. I do not know how long I have been sitting here in this position. Tonight it will be a chore to make from my chair to the kitchen sink. The last day and evening have been spent in excruciating pain while I precariously cling to life. It has taken me 3 hours to write this. To myself and to those that I d know and have ever known. Soon we will not even be a memory in my mind. I will not even remember who you are nor what I am. Aside from the suffering what bothers me is “wasted time”. If I am here tomorrow I will try to write more. BYE