Tick, tick, tick.
I can always hear the ticking, as relentless as the fly buzzing above my bed on a sleepless summer night.
Tick, tick, tick.
It’s the sound of time slowly slipping through my fingers, forever, endlessly, without cease.
What do I do with it? With the limited time I have left?
Do I use it and abuse it to the fullest? Cramming in as much family and friend time as possible?
Tick, tick, tick.
Do I better myself? Do I do all the face masks, all the yoga, all the therapy?
Do I get the rest that I need? Rot away like a gremlin in a cave, ‘Love Island’ playing on repeat?
Tick, tick, “Guys, I got a text!”, tick.
I can’t stop it. I can’t slow it.
The time keeps ticking by as I keep screaming for it to wait.
Until I make a game plan.
Until I can catch my breath.
Until I’ve had a nap or two.
Until I work out what to do.
Tick, tick, tick.
