"In the end? Nothing ends, Adrian. Nothing ever ends."

All that exists is time. There is still time. You can count on that. Until, of course, there isn't any more time. But, then there is relief. BUT. It could be possible that time encompasses all parallels, all dimensions, this world, next. A looping conveyor. It never changes, but what goes through it, what is on it, what inhabits it, does. I've always felt entwined with time, wrapped in it, defined by it, controlled by it. Clocks are everywhere. Calendars. Datebooks. Appointments. But, now I see it as only a quality by which to converge with others running on the same timeline. There is still time. It need not be now. I've let time puppet me until now. Strictly on schedule! Punctual! Organized! Am I happy? Was I happy? Happy! It seems like such an absurd word. State of mind. How much you psyche yourself out. In with the good, out with the bad. Well, where the fuck is my good? Maybe I'm just flawed. So, I'm just gonna chill with time. Time and me are gonna sit side by side in identical lawn chairs, having a drink and flicking off the world. Do with me what you want, life!