I breathe in days that turn to weeks, that are now jotted and pasted in the memory of “before”.
What i breathed in and breathed through has now become a fuzzy piece of the earth’s history. Not recorded in books, just in the universe’s memory.
I would love to time-travel, at the same time, i would not. Escaping time is escaping the breaths that changes the landscape of your mind. Getting from here to there with no in between leaves you hanging with the contents of time spilling. Missed accomplishments, missed satisfaction.
But if you ever manage to do that, then the in between was never for you anyways.
I think time just doubled its speed.
It’s like im just watching a scene repeat with different variations, but this time, the differences are chiming in rapidly. Changing to the atmospheres of different days, landing me where i want to be and where i dont want to be. It’s like a monstrous rollercoaster ride that you have to ride over and over again, and each time you somehow get used to the rhythm and it isnt so scary, but still tedious.
Ticking off the last week of April gets me thinking. In fact, everything gets me thinking now. Something activates in my head and i go in a spiral of wonder that leads me nudging my head at time’s caccoon.
I would be a bird if i could. But im human so i walk with feet on the ground that never seem to escape me. If i were a bird, i think i would be too free to observe time and feel minute differences. Nothing would astonish me. It would be repetition, and repetition is frustratingly agonizing.
So right now, everything is just a matter of chancing upon a new perspective. A new angle and new experiences.
It’s really funny how perspective is, because last week, i went up on my roommate’s bed, and the room looked hugely different from that angle, than it does from my bed.
My “technique” really is looking forward until i find comfort.