Thirty years, yesterday. And how many hours?
I don’t know. Not Anymore. I have the years in me, still, but the smaller, paler shapes of time have been lost — the weeks, the days, and the quiet hours within them. They’ve left me or maybe my wish to count them has. But along with the old, comes the new. A different view of life, a renewed pallete for the bitter sweet ordeals I have to face. Heck yah, I am ready!
I am thirty. Not old, not even slightly.