Time, you are no friend of mine.
It’s the eve of my 25th birthday and I sit quietly alone. Breathing carefully, I softly roll the bud between my fingers. The candles are blown, the night is still, and a quarter of my life has passed me by. Time, you didn’t even get me a gift.
You just take.
You take and never return. You play and don’t rewind. You pressure and won’t relent.
As the graduate, I feel more mortal than ever before.
I don’t feel old, I feel finite. I can’t help it and I can’t stop it. I feel you sitting heavy on my shoulders. What happened to us time? Where did it all go wrong?
We were cool when you got me to 16.
My world opened up with the turn of a key. You gave me speed, power, control, independence, and most importantly: a place to shag.
I fell in love with you at 18.
You got me out of the house, buying porn, smoking cigarettes, and gave me the choice not to vote.
At 21, I thought I could love you forever.
You got me into new places and put every isle of the supermarket at my finger tips. Best of all, you got me really, really, really drunk.
You’ve healed wounds for me, helped me grow, and your future self occasionally gives me hope.
But what have you done for me lately? Nothing. Nothing but fuck me sideways. So ya know what? Fuck you, and fuck off. You’re taking everything I value. My hair, my looks, and damn you, even my certain twinkle.
What pushes me over the edge is that you will take every single thing that I love.
My mother, father, brothers, tutu, best friends and my Pua girl. One day you’ll take the love of my life. Then you’ll take me. Your unkind, unlovable, and a total bitch.
So take your shit and get out.
We’re over. We’re done. Take your calendars, your clocks, and your sands. I want you out of my life.
With Great Disdain,
P.S. You’re all alone and you don’t really exist.