These posts and thoughts about time never get old, because the mystery of time never ceases to surprise, or terrify each of us with it's speed and disappearing acts.
It's fall and cold temperatures are coming, says the limp hands drifting along with the wind hanging outside of moving car windows.
Mom's relapsed and is lying her way out of it, says the silence between us, once again.
I'm falling in and out of a happy state of mind, with you, and without you, says the idea of us, such a potentially devastating idea- I find myself drifting further from you, taking the easy way out. Running.
And I wait. I wait for an answer from the only university I applied to. I wait for cold weather and weekends. I wait for normalcy from the woman who birthed me, because I need her, I'll always need her. I wait for patience and peace of mind to well up within me and pour out, to tell me letting myself care about someone new is okay. Letting myself be happy again is good for me. I wait for the sun to shine and the rain to stop coming down so hard and consistently. I wait for friends to come in and out of my life. I wait till the last minute to get things done.
I'm always hoping for some sort of consistency, something that becomes a ritualistic pattern that I can get used to.
And once that falls into place, here I am bored with it, sighing, waiting for the chaos to begin again, bringing me back to life.
