(84) running late (to my life)

(image courtesy of unknown artist) when life becomes something that you feel that you're constantly running behind on, "putting off": are you really living for yourself, or at all, anymore? i, once again, have been faced with the crushing company of blogger's block for a good while now. i've been wandering, wondering, worrying and writing... but all of it confined to the shivering walls encasing the inside of my skull. much like a prisoner within her own messy, bloody, living cage; i line the membranes that encase me with sharp scratches that get deeper, and deeper, as time floats by. scratches for the days, hours, minutes, wasted potential that passes. scratches that gaze back into my own soul with the same ferocity with which they were carved, tearing into me as if cut into my own flesh. well... are they not? i've been running late to my own life for a good, long while now. at first it was a gag, a bit, and a consequence of what was a busy and fairly holistically fulfilling life. i…