sixteen.

and at precisely 12:06am, as i cricketed my tired legs together for warmth under my blankets and sheets and listened to the storm howl outside, it hit me as discreetly as a freight train barreling down the tracks that my mind had, without question, kicked back in on this monumentally gloomy, wincing, mournful day. oh shit, what have i done?

my mind made its reappearance with a smirk, taunting, "as if you could ever forget me". i tried carefully to make a case for my now racing heart, but unsurprisingly, it's pounding rhythm failed to drown the chorus line of thoughts now berating me.

it's true, hearts make us impetuous. by design, they cannot wait, as each second, each beat, is a reminder that our mortality draws nearer. my heart has been making me impatient, as though it knows its beats are (and have forever been) numbered. "lub-dub i'mrunningoutoftime lub-dub makethisonecount lub-dub". maybe that's why we take comfort in laying our heads on lovers' chests to listen--- between the opening and closing of valves we can hope to boldly hear those otherwise reticent messages of love and desire slip impatiently through.

so herein lies the dilemma- my telltale heart knows no speed but full-speed ahead while my mind is a complex system of gears and pulleys equivalent to that of a 937-speed bike, on which, as one would imagine, it is damn-near impossible to properly regulate one's speed. i guess i'll be leaving this one to the great moderator: sleep, and i'm quite sure i'll wake up tomorrow going exactly the speed i should be going.