I am lying down, eyes half closed, body really numb, heels aching badly.
I’m lying down and just watching the digital clock on my phone change figures. Isn’t it funny that presidents and governors and those who they tell us are dignitaries get lots of alarm and sirens to announce their coming, while the future gets only as loud as the tick-tock of the clock?
It’s so weird and silent the way time moves. First I’m at 11:25pm thinking of what to write and next thing, it’s 12:05am.
I’m 10 years old, thinking I’m really smart, and next thing I’m 20 years old thinking my glasses is a misrepresentation of my brain.
I’m in love and I don’t think there’s a world outside it, and next thing I’m counting how many ‘outsides’ I have experienced.
Just now, I am dancing with my baby cousin in my arms and next thing, he’s grown so big my arms ache when I try to carry him.
Just now, I’m sure that the future has nothing for me, and the next thing, I’m in the future and I see that there’s so much; so so much.
Time is funny, and sometimes I want to be like her. I want to be able to lead people into their future consistently. I want to know when to stop being there for some people; when they have to be dead to me. I want to know how to dance round the clock, never stopping. I want to learn not only how to be in the moment, but how to be the moment. I want to be well rounded. I want to be complete; completely accountable for everywhere my hands reached at every second of the day. I want to be needed and relevant, even in the future.
I feel really sleepy. But here I am, making out time in my onesie, finding time never minding my tired mind, and racing against time even with my aching heel. I am here still writing about Time because, she’s that important.