time

I used to be adamant about living in the moment. And being present here, now, where I am today. Bullshit like that. This morning I awoke and realized that in this moment, time feels like a ton of bricks to the face. Time feels like my biggest enemy. This moment feels like the worst. Everyday, time shakes me out of my oblivion, moves my feet to the floor, bathes me, readies me, and sends me on my way. Time drives me to work, where I put one foot in front of the other, slowly, as to not wake the great monster below, with the creaking of the floorboards. Time shouts in my ear with a deafening pitch, filling my head with the noise of a stadium adamantly opposing the team within. Time perpetuates these blistering heels rubbed raw by the constant friction of motion on soft skin. Time drips with the leaky faucet, never still yet not enough to fill my cup. Time builds me and drains me, and steals my pride. Time robs my freedom yet it is the only opportunity for freedom I have. Time stares me in the face as I wait for conversation. Time speaks with a stutter confusing words with rhyme. And then, at the end of the day, time drags me home and lays me down to rest, moving within my head like the constant lapping of waves on the ocean shore. I used to think of time differently. Yet when each moment seems like eternity, I can do nothing but wish time away. And to my dismay, time still exists.