I thought of this post while I was smoking a precious cigarette at the back of the clinic when there was a lull in the onslaught of patients for the day. It felt good to be having that moment, no matter how brief it was. I kind of miss being with myself, mulling over things, from the most mundane to the weirdest shit.
There are times when I wanted to speed up the days and the nights, so I might come to those most anticipated times, skipping over the stale ones. It is as if there are just so many things to do and I want it all finished in a snap and see the results…so that I could move to doing some more things, others that are still lined up in the pipeline of work/tasks to be done. Who could get bored with the number of things worth doing and with the number of experiences yet to be encountered? How can anyone say that there isn’t much to do, when there are a million things to learn, to discover, to see, to play with, to fix, to burn, to destroy, to build, to create? I, myself, get lost thinking of how awesome it would be to do most of what can be done in a lifetime.
But, at times, I wish that I could simply stop time and just stay there, with my burning cigarette, all things suspended and stand still, simply looking up at the dark, forbidding sky, as the smoke rises up to claim it. A space in time to remember all that is good and true. Skip those not so good times and play only the mirthful ones like what you do with your favorite movie, like The Matrix or Underworld. Ah, what a joy!
However, even if I try to inhale the moment, savoring it, the moment I do, it’s gone.
Perhaps, perhaps, I was looking up too much.
