Bottling it up

Bottling it up

Every once in a few months I ask myself the question I currently fear most: what have I been doing with my life?

............

Moments later I realized my breathing had stopped in pace with my frozen thoughts. The stillness condenses into a blush which blooms a sweat along my spine.

Damn. This occurred more frequently after entering an ivory tower where material rewards nearly disappear, and silence grips me whenever I find myself. Then alternately exposed, too quickly, to the fancies of the "real world", always encrusted with a thick layer of showiness.

How do you crack an rock? Alternately heat and cool its exterior with ruthless haste. Do it enough and you will find shards or crumbs. Useless knowledge about geography still mocks me after all these years.

Again! "What were the past 27 years spent achieving?" This time, much louder, followed by a decidedly painful silence. Water starts dripping down my face.

I, like most of my peers, am a multi-millionaire: I've already been given beyond 14 million minutes to decide the answer to this question. Too many gone, too few remaining. Five million were spent sleeping. Nearly two million were consumed away. With my memory probably holding less than tens of thousands of minutes worth, I wonder about the squandered remainder.

I forcefully bottle up this minute's worth of panic, suddenly resolved to act; wishing away this dread, knowing its shadow will seek me again.

Reaching for the towel, I step out of the shower and begin my promised new day.

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