Pieces Of Me [an online journal of sorts]

Entry Sixty-four: tick-tock

Sometimes my chest hurts.

I get restless, my limbs nervous and my stomach writhing. I feel like I'm missing something or that there must be something that's missing from me, as if there's a little hole carved in the center of my heart that I can feel only when I'm alone.

I'm not sure whom or what, exactly, it is that I miss. It's an odd feeling because I'm not the type of person to miss anyone at all. It makes me question myself, makes me doubt if I even care at all about the people I claim to love. You could be my best friend in the whole world and I would be fine going the whole summer without seeing or speaking to you because the words I miss you too are four words I've never uttered with true conviction. I'm not even sure if it's intentional on my part or a glitch in my head that's turned off my ability to really feel lost when I lose something.

Yet, in this exact moment, I feel exactly that. I'm lost. I'm missing something and someone and they're missing from me and I need to talk to them, I need to see them, I need to feel their presence lift the weight off my chest because I can't breathe.

I hate this feeling.

I hate missing someone when they're right in front of me and hate missing them when they're not. I pretend I don't care, but I do, more than I'd like and more than I'd ever admit to.

Sometimes I wish I could be that person who carries her heart on her sleeve and has her arms wrapped around her friends, brave enough to tell them she loves them and she misses them and she wishes that time would stop for them because all the happy memories, all the good stories, all the heartfelt laughs and bright smiles - she has her friends to thank for them. She could never get enough of them, even if she lived forever.

Time.

It's always about time.

I'm missing it before it's even passed, before it's even gotten a chance to pack its bags. The seconds are slipping right through my fingers, leaking out the holes in my pockets, and I'm panicking, screaming for it to wait, that I need more, I need to catch up, I'm not ready yet, please don't go. But I'm never, ever fast enough, and time has never been much of a listener. Days and weeks go by and I can't remember most of them, can't understand how I've let so many hours slip by without noticing. Most days it terrifies me so much, I feel as if I might break at the seams.

I can't deal with this. I can't. My mind and body are not equipped to hold this much fear and uncertainty. I wish I could compress it into a little square box and hurl it as far away from me as I can.

I miss time, when it's not even mine to lose. I miss my friends, even when they're right in front of me, even as I'm talking to them. I miss me and it's frightening because, lately, I've been feeling like every sunrise I've woken up to has burned away a piece of myself I'll never be able to retrieve. Every new day is a new weight added to my chest. I can't even bear to think about the future because I don't want it to come. I don't want this day to end and I don't want to be alone and I don't want this month or the next year and I don't want to miss anything or anyone.

I want to be able to breathe and not feel as if every inhale and exhale is a tick and a tock on the clock I carry in my head.

I want to wake up and not be afraid.