Thursday, December 20, 2007

When I was little I hated to wake up and find that I'd been napping. I would cry and despair. Sleep was, to me, the biggest waste of time. I would get up at seven and skulk around my parents' bed in the morning waiting for them to wake up.

These days I can't wake up that early, but the despair hasn't ended. I overwork and oversocialize myself when I can, piling three days into one, anything to make the most economical use of time. When I have nothing to do, I flit about restlessly and grow depressed because perfect days are being wasted.

Most of all I despair when I realise that it's been five years since I was sixteen.

So today I told Time that we're through. Cleanly cut. I won't count the days or the hours any longer. No more will I feel the wait, or the waste.

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