It’s 12:01 am. The sweat on my neck causes my hair to stick to the back of my neck. I’m lying in bed. I’m lying to myself. I tell myself that I’m ok. That things will get better. Just give it time. But how much Time? Time is a valuable thing to me. I only have so much of it.
It’s now 12:05 am. I wasted 4 precious minutes typing. 4 minutes ill never get back…
Now it’s 12:10. I’ve been writing for 9 minutes. And yet I feel no better. As a writer shouldn’t this make me happy? If not, at least a tad bit happier than I am now? A tad bit happier than fighting the urge to put metal to skin? Happier than sitting in the dark, typing aimlessly, as my wrists and thighs burn with yearning?
And yet I feel no such reward from these 12 minutes wasted, writing. All I feel is an all-consuming sadness.
Sadness at the fact that I have lost 14 precious minutes on the ticking clock.
Sadness that I know the reader doesn’t care.
Sadness that I am now saddened by something that once brought me joy.
Sadness in everything.
So now I shall sit in the dark. Feeling the clock within myself slowly run out of time…
Things unsaid, feelings unfelt, actions undone, life unexperienced…
More precious minutes lost….tick tock, tick tock.
2 comments
No, I don’t know that I don’t care, because I do. You do write well, and you wrote it out. They don’t understand the pain because they haven’t lived with it. They don’t understand the saddness, because they are consumed with the values that have no substance. I cannot write more tonight because I am so tired and still questioning this life myself.
You both.I want to tell you that even though we are all humans.We all have sympathy and love for each other.You dont know me and maybe their is a slight chance we will ever meet.but I’ll tell you now.people care.this website is to help not to bash..and we are all here.
Here to help you up when you fall.
I wish you a good day :)…