I've been wasting this day trying to make decisions. Trying to be productive. Trying to be creative. Doing nothing of significance. I tried to write a poem... This is how it starts:
Time is passing as I sit here
I can measure it by the scars on my hand
As they gradually fade
As they become a part of me
It gets worse from there...
I had a conversation with a friend this week about life and waiting and how we spend so much of our time waiting for life that life is waiting. I guess that was what today was. I wouldn't call it a life-filled day, but nevertheless I lived it.