Running for Time.

Have you noticed how time seems to just run away screaming just when you think that there's a lot of it?
Give it time. Give me time.
And before you know it, with all your brooding over it, it's gone.
Gone, gone gone.

Never to come back.

It's true that right now I'm stuck in this massive abyss of an interstice, between school and college, between heartbreak and moving on, between love and friendship and nothing at all.

(Reference to: Friends Lovers or Nothing on my brilliant new John Mayer cd. *aaa*)

So basically stuck in an interstice of periods, time should be one thing I'm willing to allow the passing of, regardless of the utter pointlessness of my permission - I mean, as if time is at my back and call and halts at my merest suggestion.
Hah, I wish.

But still, we like to delude ourselves about our own control over things, so I'm supposed to be ok with time passing yes? I'm supposed to be freakin' out of my mind with all this excess time at my hands and just want it out of my way. I'm supposed to want to get to college already and turn eighteen and apply for my driver's licence (whee).

And here I am, an idiot if there ever was one, reading up old diary entries and things I should really really not even look at, given the delicate stance of all things around me right now.

So your first kiss is always your first kiss and you sometimes feel lonely and want to feel it all over again, and winning that school competition you never even got your certificate for was one of the most exhilarating things that happened to you.
So what?

Must move on.
Must move on.

And it's so so easy to think that you are, getting caught up in little tasks of tomorrow (read college applications, Transfer certificates etc) but the truth is that when you lie in bed at night, you dream about those school corridors and people that have quite unwittingly become a part of you.
Love 'em or hate 'em, they're there.
Deal with it.

And then you have a reality check and realise, all in a rush, that you're not ready. Stark terror seizes you when you realise that where you are still has some light shed on it by the past, but the future is this big black something you don't recognise.

Talk about pessimism.

And urgh, suddenly you wish that this interstice could go on forever and ever and leave you with some ghost of an excuse to just hold on to everything and not let go.

But the excuse is slipping away fast, like time. Time is the excuse. I'd better think of a new one.

Ah, life, and thy misery.