Here I am again.
Same place I always find you, same place time always finds me.
Alone at night.
Why is it time never slows when I'm high, happy, intoxicated or just content?
Why is it the small threads that piece together the matter of my time never thin out and elongate in those moments?
Because I'm laying here now, having realised a day has passed, an eventful day at that, one that I'll probably think about once or twice a year from now. But not once, not for a split second, did it slow down for me.
I didn't have that moment, when 5 minutes stretch into the length of an hour, I didn't have that moment when the floor sinks from below me and I feel the world starring back at me. Because that only happens at night, when I'm alone and the only one starring back at me is me.
Because when the lights are off and all the noise is gone, my head gets loud again, like a petulant child deprived of a toy for too long my mind begins to tantrum. Demanding I sink into waves of worry and self doubt, it makes me analyse the details of the day I've lived. But see my mind isn't a reviewer, it doesn't point out the pros and cons, highlight the parts worth keeps. No, my mind is a critic with only impossible goals and cynical pasimism to offer. I had a good day today, at least I thought I did.
Aug 22, 2017
Aug 22, 2017 at 10:41 AM UTC
Here I am again.
Same place I always find you, same place time always finds me.
Alone at night.
Why is it time never slows when I'm high, happy, intoxicated or just content?
Why is it the small threads that piece together the matter of my time never thin out and elongate in those moments?
Because I'm laying here now, having realised a day has passed, an eventful day at that, one that I'll probably think about once or twice a year from now. But not once, not for a split second, did it slow down for me.
I didn't have that moment, when 5 minutes stretch into the length of an hour, I didn't have that moment when the floor sinks from below me and I feel the world starring back at me. Because that only happens at night, when I'm alone and the only one starring back at me is me.
Because when the lights are off and all the noise is gone, my head gets loud again, like a petulant child deprived of a toy for too long my mind begins to tantrum. Demanding I sink into waves of worry and self doubt, it makes me analyse the details of the day I've lived. But see my mind isn't a reviewer, it doesn't point out the pros and cons, highlight the parts worth keeps. No, my mind is a critic with only impossible goals and cynical pasimism to offer. I had a good day today, at least I thought I did.
Request permission to use this poem