Tick tock time is running out. I feel the pressure building, every day that goes past, I'm still failing at life.
Tick tock time is running out. I am like Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz, watching the sand pour through the hourglass, I'm terrified of not making it.
Tick tock time is running out and I wonder where it all went anyway. One minute I was a child running free, a teenager trying to figure out who I was (I still am), a grown-up doing grown-up things. A marriage, children, divorce and 20 house moves. The years disappeared in a blink.
Tick tock time is running out. I haven't made my life count. Does breaking the cycle of intergenerational abuse mean I made a difference?
Tick tock time is running out. I don't know how I want to spend the time I have left. I only really have this moment anyway and I'm spending it writing so that should make me happy, right?
Tick tock time is running out. I sit helpless noticing the horrors in the world. There's too much doom and gloom and hate, and not enough light.
Tick tock time is running out. When I stop panicking I can see my blessed life - even with all the pain, trauma and abuse.
Tick tock time is running out. The race to the finish line of this year is nearing the end, the days are getting shorter, the darkness is coming and it's almost hibernation time - my favourite time.
Tick tock time is running out. Maybe I don't need to live this way anymore, maybe I can stop watching the hourglass, maybe I should just do what makes me happy each day and smile.
