The “I” of which I know

Me, me and me.

It’s always just about me.

Even when the King of Pop leaves too soon, all I ever do is wonder why the world is so unfair.

To me.

I suppose it doesn’t help when everything reminds you of something.

Indeed, we all know our destinations. But it is the fear of where our journey leads us, that keeps us up at night.

We end up hurting the most, the ones that we love.

Indeed, she may seem perfect. But only to those whom will never really know her well enough.

And so, we have arrived at the issue of time.

Time is of the essence, they say. Apparently, not to everyone.

Over the course of the last few months, I have been more and more impatient at the meaning of time.

When time is a matter of life and death. When a minute is as good as a year if nothing can bring him back ever again.

Wasting your time, is really wasting my time too.

When you fail to make it sweet and simple,  I do not understand your logic to complicate an already complicated world as it is.

The great big problem is that many go through life wasting time at the expense of someone else’s. With no plans of keeping a solution, any kind of solution at hand, I suppose things can only lead to disaster.

But of course, that doesn’t give me the right to awaken Miss Rude or the old wench, Madam Sarcastic. Although sometimes, it’s just too tempting not to offer a verbal slap or two when someone very well deserves it.

Yes, I am growing old.

I no longer choose to just ‘let it go’ because you’re difficult. Because I know now that what goes around come around.

And what of the mother, who’s really too scared to be one?

Well, I guess she’ll waste more of someone else’s time then.

How about the sweetie, who wishes to cheat time by giving you a hand but does it all wrong? Whose time is accountable for that?

If I feel guilty for going mad, does that mean that my conscience implies that I was wrong to act that way?

Although everytime, I’d manage to find a reason for my blow-up.

It’s his fault.

He should have known.

She started it first.

Sometimes, my inner turmoil is much greater than the crises of the world.

In one second I could explode into a million black balloons.

In two, I could grind myself flat on the railway tracks.

I wish I could duck beneath the water. I wish I could stay there whenever I wanted to.

But even bottomless wells need a breather sometimes.