I wish time wouldn’t live up to its name sometimes. It runs when there’s no need and slows when I can’t handle it any longer. The tic toc tic … tic toc tic toc tic toc tic toc drives me bonkers sometimes. In a silent room, that’s all there is to that. I wish we could’ve had a nice chat over coffee, but its hands are bound, its feet running. My future, unspoken of. So I sit here not knowing who I can be or what is to be made of me. Mold me like clay but don’t destroy me. I’m already shattered.
How can I expect me to be me when I’m shattering into a million fragments. Even if I could be put together again, will I be the same. Missing pieces will forever be lost pieces. Even if, and when, I were to be me again, would I be me. Or would it be the me that was lost in the first place. Or ….on second thought…the me that will be never found again. Hmm?