Time for another week’s blog post… *checks the calendar*… on the last day of the week. Perfect. I dug through my past blog posts and realized that I’ve already talked about deadlines, so that topic’s gone.
So I’m sitting here, watching the clock on the wall tick down the seconds and minutes until it’s too late to do anything and I can mark down ‘failed’ in my promise box I made a few short months ago.
I’ve even written about what to do when you’re on a writing streak. I’m on what you could term a NON-writing streak. It’s not that I don’t have any ideas or topics to write about, it’s that I don’t want to. I’m the stubborn donkey that flops his ass (pun intended) down and brays to the sky just because you want him to go somewhere he doesn’t.
I’m in a fight against time (and my brain). The problem is… time doesn’t care. It will march on, and stomp you into the dirt, and chew you up, and spit you out without a pause for breath. Time is heartless. This is why it heals wounds. It continues on, heedless of the pain, until you are miles away from what caused the pain in the first place… the past.
Most times, I’m up there, walking in pace with time. Sometimes I try to stop and hold on to the moment, but time just keeps stepping, dragging me along with it. Other times, I’m desperately doing my best to outpace the inevitable and get just a little bit ahead… but time doesn’t let me.
The moment I accept that time will keep flowing… keep stomping forward… keep going… is when I’m able to enjoy life. I am dragging my heels at the moment… begging and pleading for time to stop its inexorable progress… to take just a moment for me to catch my breath and stop. But it doesn’t. It won’t. Ever.
Time is my constant companion. I hate it with a passion. I’m consumed by it. I enjoy it when I can. But time doesn’t care.
Sometimes, I wish it would… just for a second.
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