Time

I don’t have any time to be complaining. Time is running out, it is slipping through me like silk slips through one’s fingertips. I don’t have time to be unhappy and disrespectful and unworthy. I don’t have time to be unworthy. I do not have any time to not make my life worthwhile. I only have time to be happy and healthy and clean. I do not have time to think about killing myself. I do not have time to think about all of the things that I do not have. Because I have so many things. I have the air that I can breathe into my lungs and feed off of, I have food that I can bring to my lips, I have water and life that I can dip into. I have the time to appreciate things, because appreciating something takes so much less time than complaining. Complaining takes thought, and a reason, and a proof, and a theory. Complaining takes the energy of a thousand suns. But appreciating takes no effort. It takes a smile and thought. I have time to read books written by real people with real thoughts; I do not have time to watch the stupid news that replays everyday with details that have been switched out, to make it seem oh-so-different. To make the people angry. To give them something to complain about. I have time to see how easy my life is; I don’t have any time to reach into my extensive memory and dig up shit that happened before I was even a possibility. I have all the time in the world to think about what I’m doing in that second, I have all the time to think about nothing at all. I have no time to think about the plan that may or may not exist in a life that may or may not end today. I have time to live; I don’t have any time to plan my death. I’m done being unhappy and crude to myself... I don’t have the time. I am going to be happy if it kills me. I have going to smell the air that I walk by and I’m going to spend all my money because tomorrow I might be dead and I don’t care anymore. I don’t have time to care. I’m going to do whatever the hell I want to do because I simply can. I’m done thinking about what the other people are going to think of me. I’m going to do what makes me happy... I’m going to do what makes me smile and what makes me feel good. I can’t not do that. I don’t have time not to.

 

This poem is about: 
Me

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