Every month slides away faster. Looking forward to the future, but marveling at the way time slips away. Today is once again the 16th. It's gone by so fast. Every time I look at a calendar, or the date anywhere, it is nearly or already the 16th again. 8 months. It will always be the number of the current month, plus the number of years it's been. This year is zero. Next will be one. The rest will flow naturally -- what choice does time have? I feel ridiculous and puppet-like not being able to express myself properly, inside or out of my head, about this. I only ponder uselessly the mechanics of time. Today is your day. More and more, I see that you are here, but in ways unexpected. Sometimes it feels my heart may burst. That my eyes may float away from me as I stare at the sky.