Often, we pretend to be present as our feet stretch with anticipation to reach the future.
To obtain something seemingly better.
It’s hard to wrangle a current moment.
Never knowing if it will be worthwhile, how long it will last, or if that presence will scatter the moment your eyes turn to focus on it.
I have been paralyzed by time, the way it passes and how best to use it.
Trying not to obsess over the flexibility in which it comes and goes.
This process allows me to laugh at myself.
Giggling at how silly it is to be confident in the structure of a minute.
This is part of a project where I’m reworking and reimagining snippets of poetry I’ve written, dedicating time and care to what I scribbled down and tossed aside.