The consistency of time is something I respect but am also wonderfully terrified by. Time demands respect, which is a lesson I’m still learning. Growing up, I’d often hear folks refer to the concept of time as Father Time but I never understood that reference, because looking at clocks always reminded me of my mother. I paused after writing that last sentence, Mom tends to stop me in my tracks no matter what the circumstance, even if only for a fraction of a second.

Time.

I break up my days into 12 hour increments during the week. It makes living a lot more manageable. I usually wake up around 5:45 every morning during the week and think to myself, “In 12 hours, I will be waiting for the bus home.” It brings me peace when I step off the bus just before 8 AM that I’ve knocked out two hours of the day already. 1/6th is done. I have to break it down this way or I wake up sobbing. Do other people do this? It’s only my third week on the job, and what I do for a living is fine. I don’t hate it, and it’s far better than my last place of work. I don’t want to quit or leave because I think this is as good as it’s going to get. For awhile, anyway. I just need to stabilize myself. I don’t want to manifest some kind of breakdown, but I do feel pressure behind doors I don’t want to open just yet.

For someone who frets so much over time in her head, you’d think I’d be better at not wasting it. I scroll mindlessly through my phone, This weekend was so bad in that regard. I’m afraid to unplug myself, I don’t want to feel any lonelier than I already do.