What time is it?

My day is but a daze to me. Time keeps slipping away. Time isn't tangible, leaving nothing for me to grab hold to. We can't hold onto the moment or the present; we can only cling to the past or leap to the future. An instant is what separates the past from the future. One becomes the other and sometimes not in the linear order that you would expect. I feel as though my past is my future. Inescapable and undeniable. The tragic circle of time. Time moves in cycles. A time line doesn't exist but rather a bubble cluster outline of time dominates history. Those who don't learn from history are doomed to repeat it. What a load of crap. Of course we are going to repeat it, if history has taught us anything that is it. It's as if each event in history is empirical evidence of that. The only difference is that the circles' diameters seem to be getting shorter. It is taking us less time to repeat our mistakes.

Time ticks on and I'm dizzy. I might faint from all the circles I've been running. If I had the ability to stop time I would stop to take a huge breath. One good, deep breath would do the trick.

Time stops for no man. Before you know it your time is up. There is no time yet there is an abundance of it. I don't have time to write and I write all the time. I guess I'm just waiting for the write time.