Even my split ends get sick of existing for the clock, tending to it’s every need. Its hands wrapping around our necks, taking Polaroids of our wide eyes as we begin to notice it’s demise-

Ticking, ticking, ticking.

It laughs with pride as the numbers fly by and moments turn into days and months spent thinking there was so much time. Next thing we know we’re ripping wallpaper of of the walls we covered in “tomorrows”. 

We keep saying there will be time.

What if time didn’t exist? We were just here and here was nothing but a place that we thought we would stay in forever. No fear of the next day on the calendar or the morning sun peeking through curtains of clouds to taunt us with another day we let get away. 

We could sit in the silence of our chaos and exist. 

How nice that would be.

No concept of time or clocks and their tedious chatter- Can they not find something else to talk about? Must they obsess over our every second, minute, hour. They spend their lives watching ours pass by.

What a sad reality. 

How thankful the clocks must be when the thunder crashes and the lightning strikes. For a moment, they get to forget about what comes next and just breathe with us. Breathe in the essence of now. How beautiful it is to be, and to be right now. 

How many people can say that they breathed in and out, sitting under a tree, looking directly at a man reading the paper with a smirk on his face, at exactly 7:18 pm on a Tuesday night. Exist.

Quit letting the clock mock you until you can’t see past tomorrows fog. Let the unknown be the unknown, trace the outline of the stars, count the freckles on your skin, sip the sweet melancholy of time, but do not let it drown you.