I count minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, years and eventually they all blur into one. I measure my life through time. How long has it been since he last called? When did you last watch your favorite movie? Can you remember the last time you were happy with yourself? I don't know what I'm counting to. I don't know if I expect something to come out of all these meaningless numbers but my vision is crowded with things two weeks, six days and one week, two days. My mom always told me to count my blessings but she never told me when to stop counting so I'll keep counting until I can't count any more and I'll only remember you as years, months, weeks, days.