Of Time, And Those Annoying Little Shades of Yellow.

I've seen streets overcrowded with Blankness.

I've seen where I ended, and floated somewhere beyond. Still floating. Explains the blankness part.

I've seen every way I managed not to go down into, and I've seen some of the milestones pass by uncelebrated. At least not the way they could have been.

I've seen Time stop, but I followed it anyway. Aware of the stakes, I did. I've also seen it trying to escape me, and sometimes I let it, before it gives itself too much credit for thinking it's holding me down, not the other way around. I've seen Time from side-way and upside down views. I've gone through the clocks and the calendars back and forth, in a distorted pendulum-like movement. I've skidded blindly across the days with invisible roller blades. It wasn't the least fun. I've jumped, staggered, twitched, and hummed it away.

I've felt Time in every way it would have thought of being felt, including the none-at-all one. I know of Time.

And If it weren't for you, I would be shouting at every yellow object I come across. I look up in the morning and see the tone of your skin, and then the night would come and I would look up again, and sing your song. This is what keeps me from shouting.

But oh, Do I want to shout! I want to shout everything back to its place. I want to leave you the longest echoes to follow.

And when Time looks prettiest in my eyes, I look on and pick the tags of celebration, and leave a note on one of them, to smile at when Time would feel, at last, right. And behind every star you made yours, are other notes of the kind, explaining how exactly each shines for you.

Note to the world: I hereby declare that I am not broken. I further clarify that I am yet incomplete.