And oh my God, are you as exhausted as I am from grieving the planet? Tell me what I’m supposed to say about the end of the world. Tell me how not to be hysterical every time I see what’s coming. Every time I see what’s here. Tell me how to accept that it didn’t have to be this way but that it is. Tell me how to accept this sun, this fire, this sky, this day. Don’t leave me here in these ashes. Tell me to go inside. Tell me not to stare at the sun. Tell me it’s OK to be alone. Tell me it’s OK to be scared. Tell me it’s OK to be grief stricken. Tell me not to give up. Tell me to stop thinking
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