I used to play with my seconds like the remnants of broccoli that lingered on second plates emptied of contents that tasted better than what was good for me.
Time did all it could for me, threw me into cycles of dry spells to release me from the hell I was clinging to. And I toyed with my minutes like young emotionally diminished boys did with all the girls they finished.
I admit I was lost but time improved my essence and I mastered repentance recompensing for the hours I wasted chasing liquor with grief the way raindrops chase storm clouds but I'm the storm now.
If I could add all my down time and divide it by the highs, I'd just be wasting more time.
Kimolee Eryn is an artist and writer who believes in creating for a purpose beyond the purpose of creating. She believes that a life should be lived not just to sustain itself but to cultivate peace, love and growth in all adjacent beings and hopes to exemplify that in all she does.