If Time Were Human, He’d Be An Asshole

I have a little time to kill (at work, shh, don’t tell anyone), so I thought, “Why not type to myself?” Why not, because sane people do that all the time. In fact, typing to oneself might be considered healthy. Haha. Okay. So, it’s September. It took me a couple of weeks to face that hard fact, and now all of a sudden, it’s about to be October. Do you know what that means? That it’s officially not summer anymore. It’s officially allowed to be cold in October. Didn’t we JUST do this, like, a couple of months ago? Didn’t I JUST escape to Puerto Rico to avoid part of the winter? Well, here we are again. Welcome to the concept of time…it fucking sucks.

I’m already 25. Shut up. I know you’re gonna say that 25 is very young, but guess what? It’s not. You know why? Because Britney Spears is 31. And I remember buying her first album when she was 16. SHE WAS 16 AND NOW SHE’S 31. That means that 15 years have gone by since then. How have I lived long enough for 15 years to have gone by just like that? A decade and a half. What the hell?! Sometimes I still feel like the 90’s weren’t that long ago, but OH NO, hold up, that was over 20 years ago. WHAT THE HELL?! What have I done with my life in those 20 years? Nothing, because life just keeps going on while I sit here trying to keep track of what year it is. Hey Time, what’s your rush? Slow the fuck down. Some of us want to stay alive for a few more years. And at this rate, I’ll be 50 before I can wrap my head around the fact that I’m no longer 20. Seriously, this isn’t funny anymore. It was cool when I was 12, and I wanted time to fly so that school would end. But guess what, I’m not in school anymore! Because I’m an old fart now. My eggs are drying up inside of me, and I’m still not married, so you’re kind of working against me. Do you think it’s funny that my eggs are rotting? HAHAHA! No, it’s not funny. What did I ever do to you, Mr. Asshole Time? What do you have against eggs?

You know what makes you even more of an asshole? The fact that an individual day (specifically, a day in the office) can go very slowly, but somehow, you still manage to make the years just fly by as if they never happened. AMAZING. I’m beginning to question if all these years did in fact happen. We’re all being robbed. You, my unfriend, are a vicious little thief. I want to grow old with my boyfriend, but I don’t want to grow old tomorrow, so take a chill-pill, Mr. Time! Maybe you should take up reading. There are more important things to do than to ensure that we all die, and die quickly. ASSHOLE.

Hey, look at that. I started off randomly typing to myself, and I ended up yelling at Mr. Time. Clearly, I am perfectly sane. It’s not like I talk to myself out loud like this all the time. Because, psshh, I totally don’t. Psshh…

~Lily~