Behind

Wake early, the slightest tinge of hangover across my brow. Pack the last of the things strewn across an apartment that isn't yours, run out of money on your public transit card, everything says it's time to go and you arrive early for the airport shuttle, early for check in, early at the gate. The flight is late and you upend yourself in an airport lounge, playing games on your phone to avoid hearing the voices within speak. It is time for them now. It is time for all the drifting mayhem to wrap itself neatly along your spine and make you whoever it is you are going to be. Playtime ended when you passed security, and now there is only the rest of your life left. You wonder what it's like to not spend every moment considering every thing, to not always be questions, or not always be exploding in emotion.

But you are not sure you'd like to find out.