the waiting is the hardest part

in and out, day by day, the earth turns and we don't know what's next in store for us. some folks say time is only a concept, but so far it's the only one we're able to wrap our heads around. what do we do with the image of the finished product in our heads? when do we give up on it? a depressing question, that last, but only if you're thinking at it from one side. what does life become once that person is released into the land of discarded imagination? an endless string of surprises. kill him. kill that motherfucker dead. wake up to the unknown.