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When the clock strikes five post meridiem today, my days without drinking water will enumerate themselves to a bunny-in-the-hat 365—my first 365, but surely not my last; as this number will certainly topple the twenty-three plus years that came before it in due time. It’s no longer a ‘somehow’, an ‘impossible’, or an ‘unexpected’ by any means of any imagination. It’s just another New Year’s ball to drop timely each year.

My urine continues to drip a sweet mellowy see-through yellow and as for the rest of the parts, fluids, and various other odds and ends that make up the whole of me—they too fall neatly in line. Stacking themselves day by day. I lack that dehydration that should have shriveled me into tissue paper after the touted three days that dooms any internet lurker in search for more.

I am beyond “healthy” because sometimes it’s better to not squeeze oneself into society’s dictionary of everything. No matter how odd or down-brow and knitted-eye ugly the opinions and forced realities of others may seem—I can only laugh, imagining that first bird that evolved itself into a set of feathers that could do more than just hang—being squawked at for years. Just noise below trying to weigh down the reality that was clearly soaring above.

Because when you can fly…

You CAN fly.

LIVE Longer We Will!

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