Doxyglass

I feel violated.
Words were put in my mouth via cyber lack of security.
Someone ( cough*Pheebs*cough) may want to keep her typin hands to herself. I'm just sayin.


When I entered Ghana I left a place where time is captured in an hourglass. The hourglass has been replaced with a plastic medicine bottle holding 212 doxycycline. Two days prior to entering country, 171 days in country, 28 days after returning and eleven left for causal sale you have my life told in time of one pill a day. Except at this point I have eighteen for sale because I have remembered every morning to take that little pale tangerine pill of goodness.

Right now my time is sitting at just over half the bottle where the label hides the contents and makes you think there are less than there actually are. There is always more than you think. In this case I'm thinking it may look like a lot, but it feels like nothing. I have been here longer now than what my days remaining are. The halfway point is in the past and that causes panic to rise up from my beating heart through my throat to where my tongue sits too big in my dry mouth. Have I made the most of my time, was I living in the moment, are there things I wish I would have done? These questions and more race circles through my mind. Why is it that time you watch go by almost doesn't move, but time you can see that has past or the chunk that is to come moves too fast. So fast you forget to sit and watch it go by. So fast it causes you to question everything about that time and what you did with it. My time has gone by, but I watched it go by. I watched each second as it passed so that I could rewatch every moment. For I will one day be so far from these things I can reach out and touch at this moment that all I will have is the memory of a time. I watched my time as it went passing by and I will continue to watch my time, but I am not watching the clock.