Lying on my bed, smoking and drinking coffee.
Looking at my alarm clock, it's 9 pm. I know it's not the right time. I feel lost in time. Time represents time of another time zone. It might be 9am somewhere, or 2 pm somewhere, here it's 12:25 midnight.
Time does not follow with my life, or should I say I never follow the time. Having dinner at 9 pm. Wakes up at 1 pm.
My life slides as time slips.
Nothing matters, I am alone.
In Blue in The Face, Jim Jarmusch said that when he's smoking, the burnt cigarette represents a micro death of time.
Is time on my side? No, I don't know, probably not.
My youth is all wasted on me, lying on my bed, imaging myself doing the things I wish to do. It's a useless wait, I know.
I wish I don't have memories, or I wish I'm not alone.
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