Time is so subjective. One minute life is running, swirling, buzzing past--I can't stop the moments, enjoy what I should, savor the deliciousness of the new and wonderful that I continue to be blessed with. The next minute--I can hear every whirr of the fan above my desk, I check the time, and it's not even noon, the slow march of expectations and appearances weighs me down. Like running underwater.
Three weeks ago, when E and I decided to go to L.A., it seemed like it would be soon enough. But, I swear it hasn't. My perception of time has been so schizophrenic that I can't believe it's already the week of our departure and at the same time, think Thursday is still four days away, and that seems like forever.
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