The cancer that grows goes unimpeded by your future wish that you would've done more with your life. You can't recant what you do with the time you have and there is never anytime like the present. I'm not just talking to you I'm talking to me, see I'm sitting here jotting down the words while pain sits in my stomach and brain and I don't know what to do so I panic and do something, anything. Then a thing takes over and off I go down the path to this post on a page no one reads but that's not the point. All I'll have left behind is these moments where I spent my time breaking open moments and pasting them onto the page. So little time, so much unknown, so little shown through the art I claim to be a keeper of.
When will I want something enough to do anything about it?
It has to be now, even if it's not true I've wasted more time than should be allowed. I've disavowed those loud nothing moments and must look as if I've known the score all along. Please don't let it be too late.
This reminds me of Gustave Flaubert who once wrote in a letter:
ReplyDelete"The future is the worst thing about the present."
Amen indeed
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