- Posted June 13, 2014 by
This iReport is part of an assignment:
First Person: Your essays
Indirections to Directness
I count them. I count seconds as they pass, as they stealthily turn into minutes, into hours, into days, into months, and finally into years. I count them down, as they slowly pour out of me, relieving me further, each second of the day.
Time, a savior that I have placed unprecedented faith in, has held my brittle self together, although in the process of doing so it has trapped me tightly in a binding. I don’t attempt to free myself as I know with time, I will stand free and whole once again. The pieces will join back together…
I wait for that time, when directness will be the norm rather than exception, and it would’ve been much sooner had it not been for my desire to oblige my promises. But I cant just wait around forever for this to happen. I always go ahead as far as I can trying to be direct but end up with an indirectness that I have somehow grown to love. Those indirections are as direct as they can possibly get…
As I think of moving forward, I realize there is no going back… and this realization deters me most of all.