Time.
The one thing you can never have enough of
and simultaneously the one thing you can have too much of.
One day you want to live,
follow the expectations and goals set in front of you...
and another day you wish that everything
would halt to a stop.
At some point,
you start to stop caring about the how or why.
It's something I hate more than anything and somehow,
I find myself longing for more of it.
No matter how many times I return to that abysmal feeling,
I always seem to find myself right back at it.
I desired more of it.
I wished I had more of it.
I was obligated to have more.
Or maybe I wasn't.
Maybe I was entitled.
Maybe I am entitled.
Sometimes I found myself praying at night,
"God, I need more time. Please."
and others, "God, please end this."
Both times he meets me with no answer.
Just pure silence.
Which is all the answer I need at the time,
until I return to these same feelings.
Time edges me on day by day,
whispering into my ear.
Letting me know I'm running out of it,
or reminding me I want to stop it.
I've started to realize I want both-- more and less--
And sadly, I can have neither.
Day after day I'm met with the same results,
similar to clockwork.
I look forward to that day
when I can see time as time.
As nothing I should end or need more of,
because more would make it lose its precious value
and ending it would mean the end of everything.
Because time is... everything.
I have one last prayer.
Let me see time as an irreplaceable,
invaluable treasure.
Something to hold dear to me.
I can't say I'll ever be satisfied with the response,
but I can only leave all these troubled feelings
to a simple prayer
and all my trust in it with it.
