Time

So here I am trying to 'forget' about my last entry. Forget. It's something which is used in such a rude manner. Time heals, and it makes you forget. Wrong. Time does not heal nor does it help anybody to forget. Time.. it's measured by tick-tocks of every size and shape. So does it mean that each tick and tock pushes anybody nearer to forgetting or maybe that should be forgetful as in dementia? Oh no. It's not the tick-tocking which makes you forget. Because you never ever forget. And it's neither the tick nor the tock which helps you heal, it is after you've trashed your one million piece tragedy to a one billion piece tragedy. And then slowly, slower then any tick or tock, the glorious word healing starts settling in. And you're lucky if it does. Because the glory of healing comes through another glorious word, acceptance, which is found in turn through the glorious thing called patience. And time has nothing to do with it. Rien, niente, zilch. Time is only the something which is hallucinatingly scary. Time is the big big chunk which is taken out of your life because of the pain which feels so much like fear. And time is the thing you're robbed of. Because there is a time called happy and of course a time called sad. And a time called walking in an anguished trance of disbelief that it happened to you. Another time of asking why me. All are times. And there is a time when you think you've successfully put it all past you only to be brought back into reality with a horrific bang. And a time when you have a choice. And I've made my choice, without the tick-tocks.