there are certain times of the day when i feel like i'm over. that's it, turn in and start again tomorrow. it's almost a sense of reverse nostalgia, longing for the future. but it's not the asme, because, who can see the future? who dares to know what is yet to be? who dares to guess, with any unwavering degree of certainty?
i am unchanging, and it is my own doing. i, after all, do not wish to be lost again, caught with my pants down and eggs on my face. this will be my fate. i need no omen to tell me.
i dream for a future that will never come, for i am stuck in perpetual today. today never ends, for better or worse.
and how ironic it is, that i sit here at the edge of my bed, daring to predict my future, while knowing that it cannot be known. the future is never known. it is merely speculated. in fact, it's all imagination. yesterday has passed, and the past is no more than a thought. our lives are an instant, ever changing, ever growing, but ever small. a moment is all that can exist at one point. the past is memory, and the future does not exist.
so, who am i? am i a thing? am i capable of love? should i stop breathing until i can travel through these moments to find the one i really like? or, should i continue to speed through them and watch helplessly as the blur by? for now, the vehicle i'm in only knows one speed. i shall do this for now.
what if though, what if? what if it were only as easy as just once? just, everything, only once? wouldn't it be remarkable?