Tick.

The gentleman that sits next to me in my psychology class sets his watch in front of him every class. The face of the watch actually has the numbers digitally advancing, so you can watch every second of every minute go by.

I finally understand that "inevitable march of time". I have been scrambling, misusing, underappreciating every second of every day. Sitting there, it causes my heart to clench, I get so frantic watching every second go by. No matter how I plan my time, no matter how efficient I want to be.. There is never time. For the dishes, for more sleep, to see everyone, to love anyone, to not be happy, to be anything but sad. It's overwhelming right now.

I can stay up until midnight, sacrifice sleep for productivity, for peace, until I wake up and drag my morning down with the fact that I'm tired, and late, and nothing I did the night before looks quite as good now as it did then.

I have no motivation. It seems like no matter how much, or how little, that I complete, it's never enough, it's never all, the list continues on to the next day, the next week. And it all seems so inconsequential. That whether or not I get a 4 GPA or a 2.. that it really doesn't matter, and never will. It's not like I'm looking at the bigger picture. I'm not worried that what I'm doing doesn't really have an impact.. I know it doesn't. Starving children can't eat my GPA.. and I really couldn't give less of a damn. My urge to help has evaporated.

I have revealing dreams about him, about me, about what was, what is.. I feel so incredibly alone. It's so passe and so not me. I had a date, and date wanted to know was I really ready to be with somebody else. I am so ready to be with anybody else than myself. Could it be possible that I've actually been alone all along? That we were both watching the same inevitable march of time? Scared? Why is hindsight 20/20? If I could look over all the seconds that passed between us, in days, in years, on continents.. how many of them would I really keep? A handful? An hour of smiles, 30 seconds of a phone conversation, a letter, an embrace at the airport? Is that what it will eventually disolve to in my memories? Why is this the only process that I can't speed up?

In the meantime, I'm left with dishes and pillows that smell like mascara and salt, everything half finished and 100% not cared about, trying so hard everytime I walk out the door to be so perfect.. and failing so miserably. My heart and my tummy hurts, I have a permanent blister from high heels and a callus from an eyelash curler, but my heel broke and my mascara has run out.

And my date? Let's hope his foresight is 20/20. Because he just smells so damn good, it would nice if he stuck around for a little bit and held my hand.