Where Does the Time Go?

It’s 1 AM. I feel like I just got off work. I should be asleep already if I’m being honest.

While I waited for the bus, I thought about the time I thought you were moving out-of-state. I don’t know the last time I saw you. I can’t imagine the next time I will. But in that moment, panic set it. In that moment from years ago, I felt a desperate need to cling to whatever part of you that I could.

I’m pushing and pulling in too many directions. I want to write. I want to relax. I want to stay informed. I want to draw. I want to just maybe have a little fun for a couple minutes and then I’ll get focused on writing. I want to get some rest and deal with everything tomorrow when I can be more productive, but that’s what I said the day before and that’s what I said the day before that so, no, I need to actually try to be productive like I tried to do the day before and tried to do the day before that.

There are so many people I used to know. We both used to know. Maybe you still do. I wouldn’t know. I can’t recall where you were headed or why you were headed there. You weren’t the first to set your sights across state lines and others did what you didn’t. But something deep in me hurt at the prospect of losing you.

It feels like just yesterday, I was staying out til bar close and going to work the following morning. It seems impossible that I used to spend 3 hours a day commuting and I still had about the same amount of free time I have now when I get home. I don’t know where my energy went. I don’t know if all my bad habits caught up with me. I’m mentally, emotionally, and physically drained every second of the portion of the day that belongs to me, not a company.

The ingrate has no real understanding of object permanence. Tell me I can’t have it and I want it. But take it away when I’m not looking and see just how much I treasure it. The boy with too many toys doesn’t notice when one goes missing until he wants to play with that particular one.