Hours. Weeks. Days. Months. Time has ceased to really have much meaning anymore. All measurements of time have fallen into the hours category. I climb from one hour to the next. These segments of time elapse into days, stacked together, joined, into weeks eventually turn into Months.
I know time is passing. I am fully aware of it. I am smothered with a sense of ambivalence about it. I just don’t give a shit.
Accepting your gone is not an easy task. I forget you’re gone and say things like I have to ask Mali first or mechanically turn down the street to her school. I look at her school mates with envy. Envy at them growing up. How lucky their Mom’s are to have them. Then guilt for the envy. Envy is not even in my repertoire. I realize I am human.
Back to the title of this discussion.. if time doesn’t matter and you find yourself in zombie mode, going through the motions of existing, there isn’t a way for a person to get anything out of our existence, to fill the inner well of humanness that we share with our fellow Earthlings.
This is no way to live. I can’t absorb nor can I give. It’s a problem. Humans can live on varying levels of existence and are capable of living in crap or high with the breath of Angels on their back. It’s a choice. I think I fell through the cracks.
Remembering Mali 