Drink to how every day we had less time left. 

…time doesn’t belong to you. All you have is what you remember. A fraction; less. 

-j. buntin



Maybe that’s all loss is. What happens, whether you like it or not. What won’t let you go. -j. buntin 

23 Jan 2018, Tuesday

I broke my Mossimo watch today. I won’t tell how I managed to crush the poor thing too early this week though. It was impossible for me to shake the mixed sadness and disappointment throughout the day. Disappointment because I was just letting it stay inside my cabinet for couple months now instead of actually using it. Little watch didn’t even get to live its purpose before having abducted to watch heaven. I don’t know, but it’s a sports watch and the mood to wear it just didn’t come to me lately. Nonetheless, it is quite comforting to know that my watch is always there waiting for me; alive with perfectly healthy moving hands. There is seriously some kind of security in that.

Sadness. My heart aches for two reasons: first, you people have to know that I have this huge major, major thing for watches. I liked them since I was five or six. Through the ages, I would always feel almost naked, barefoot without my wrists touching them. SO THIS IS A BIG DEAL. I have five watches to date (minus one now obviously). Second, I should mention that I usually mourn for at least 24 hours before I get over something essentially attached to me. I get too emotionally involved with my personal possessions. I identify as one of those people who own material stuff for so long, and decades after, these things could still sparkle and look brand new, because that’s just who they are. That is who I am.

I may sound ridiculous, but believe me, if I could just knock it off and be okay, I’d be happy to. Only I couldn’t. I’d like to believe that when I die, some of the people I know would remember me as the girl who cared so much about these silly material things because somehow, there’s a profound, magical story behind them. Somehow she’s a part of this watch, or shoe, or pen or whatever easily replaceable —- only to her, they’re not, for she loved them like a crazy person who melts down over a sports watch.

Life changes a little bit [some unfortunate times, like a lot] when something that used to be there isn’t present anymore.