Here's a thought: time is a source of measurement that cannot be easily defined. I sit in this apartment. An apartment a year ago I had never stepped foot in or laid eyes on. In another year, I will no longer climb the two, narrow flights of stairs to arrive in said apartment. A year ago the cat who plays with the cotton object near the door wasn't reality to me. She was simply ... unknown. What else waits to be discovered? Who am I waiting to be discovered by? In a years time where will I be? Where will you be? I used to dream, these elaborate, fantastical dreams... Now it's as if my mind has been occupied with this concept of time. We divide ourselves, spreading ourselves so thin, one can't help but question quality versus quantity. Lately, I feel like I spend my waking hours craving sleep. Yet, when sleep is supposed to be had... I cannot reach a state of calm... I used to believe that had to do with a lack of another human... Perhaps though, it's the measurement of quality versus quantity mixed with time. Whatever it may be - I'm not dreaming.