Twisting and turning, mind reeling. I am 25 years old feeling no younger than 60. The days melt into one long succession of broken promises and retracked phrases. I'm sorry; maybe in our next life. I keep thinking that the days are getting shorter, when in all actuality, I'm just losing time. I find reminders of the minutes etched all over old photographs, thankyou cards, memories. The taunting kind that literally cannot be denied...just endured. Fake. I can't help but taste the bitter irony of it all. All things considered, it IS ironic; at my expense. It's all just a game, however, right? And they tell me, before I know it, the season will be over.
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