jjay

He began to feel accustomed to his discomfort. So much so that he had began to appreciate his predicament. It was his after all and no one could take it away. He began wearing it like a badge, a symbol of who he was and where he had been. With the bottle in his hand he soon had forgotten the pain that was there. All that he had experienced was forgotten. But it was still present, just buried deep within, a tiny ball at the bottom of his belly covered up by the finest ingredients and choicest hops. It was waiting there, waiting for the day he would remember and on that day this terrible feeling would grow and expand until it overtook him and he could no longer stand it. This day was unavoidable. It was just a matter of time. The catalyst was the thing of mystery. Who knew what would trigger the memory and set the wheels of pain and remembrance in motion. This was something understood in deepest parts of his mind, buried like the pain. It was his own time bomb and the minutes were ticking away faster than he knew. Time was against him like it is for all of us, a nagging mother telling you its time for bed asking if youve said your prayers. That was his only hope, a prayer. But sadly faith like time was oblivious. He would eventually be imprisoned by his own feelings and memories. It was inevitable; the only thing left was to wait.
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Tonight I watched Adaptation. My thoughts...clever and fresh.

Tomorrow is a new day. How will you spend it?