Time, time, time. It presses down upon me, crushing my shoulders, and squeezing the polluted air from my body. My hearts beats quickly, erraticly, constricting and releasing in a distorted tempo - like the noise you hear when your car is about to die. And why? Why should my body react so insanely to the steady passage of an absurd human conception? Today passes in exactly the same as way as yesterday. Tomorrow will be no different.
And should my heart stop or my lungs give up, the absurd human conception will not even pause to utter a sigh. Time will not miss a beat. Time is regular that way - like a grungy workman with a steady trudge, to and from work, never missing a day, never stopping. You can wave to Time as he passes by, and he may turn in your direction but he never varies his pace. Yet there are moments when you wave frantically - moments of sorrow or exultation - hoping and praying that just once, just this one single time, Time will look in your direction, acknowledge your waves with a tip of the hat. And stop.
But like any stranger on a crowded city street, Time keeps going - too much to do - can't stop. And with the recognition that this time is like all the other times, I fall to my knees, embracing the earth in a grasp of anxious yearning. Not happiness. I let my body's uncontrollable rage at the situation take over. Short of breath - twitchy heart - and shoulders that ache constantly - but there's too much to do - can't stop. Can't ever stop. No time.
