Time has stopped being relevant to me, I have ceased any futile attempts to understand how it works, and why it works in the ways that it does, only knowing that that it is passing frighteningly fast, and I have no idea what it is that I'm doing for most of it.
I'm constantly reflecting and dreaming and wondering, and sometimes, on a good day, I feel infinitely young and excited and in awe of the gorgeous possibilities of 'My Whole Entire Life Ahead Of Me' and then other, admittedly not so good days, it's like a cave, overwhelmingly close, claustrophobic and closing in far, far too quickly.
And then on the best days, I become blissfully unaware of anything except that exact perfect moment, like that day at 5.25 just before we ran to catch your 5.30 bus, when all I could see was the pink sky, the rooftops,
and your silhouette against it all.
|This is what I look like. That's someone else's Iphone I'm playing with.|