I was never much a keep track of things kind of person. I didn't measure time or set alarms. I would show up when I showed up and made the most of whatever time I had left. Since loosing my dad I've counted every minute that passes. The space where his presence once was is now measured in seconds, minutes and hours. Each tick of the clocks hand more painful then the last. Does it make me fucked up that I am more conscious of how I am wasting my life away then before he left.. Why does it take loosing someone to fix yourself and be a decent human being. I worry I will forget and I know now that once the moments gone I will never get it back. It becomes a memory that will fade when I leave this place.
I make more time for people than I did before dad left. I used to live with the philosophy that you can always hang out later, catch up on the weekend, respond to that text another day. They will always be there so it doesn't matter much right? well here's a little bong smoke for you if you are really asking yourself.. it fucking matters..
I laugh at the naive person I was. Wishing and praying that I could go and snatch those seconds back. Greedy and wanting more from a bowl that was long ago emptied. I look back and can't believe how wasteful I was. Precious minutes pouring down the drain like yesterday's coffee. Minutes that I would give my last breath to have more of..
These are some of the thoughts that keep me awake at 2am. wondering is it time to get up yet? Would someone miss me if I was gone? Did I make the most of every second? I guess Ill never know.
