A few years ago, I use to write whatever came to mind at the end of every day. It wasn't really a journal or diary. More a book of odd tales and twisted stories from within my head. I put the book down for some time and completely forgot about it until packing forced the book to resurface. Now, much of what I wrote really was nonsense (both figuratively and because I just can't read my own handwriting), but there were a few pieces I think are worth wild to at least share with the Internet world. After all, the Internet is kind to those who post lackluster writing pieces. From time to time, I'll post something from this book, and here is my first post: Time
Always does what you don't want.
In the good, it speeds by like a shooting comet.
In the bad, it freezes like a winter storm.
You don't realize it's there until you're stuck within it,
looking for an escape when it seems the world has stopped all around you.
Or perhaps you are what has stopped.
The reason why time doesn't move is because you cease to.
Is it because you don't want to?
This hell you go through is nothing you want to stay in.
Perhaps you just don't know how to escape.
It is a new situation.
One you never thought you'd face.
Like a snow globe,
you try to break free, but there's nowhere to run,
and the storm is only a tilt away.
Of course nothing is forever.
The winter storm always melts.
The globe subsides and perhaps you'll even see the tail end of that shooting comet.
It just takes time.