Some kind of thick black smoke is pouring into the atmosphere some ten miles away from where I sit right now. It’s only news because we all heard about it on social media, managed to read something of a headline in our slack-jawed scrolling.
Now I’m thinking about the smog in China, wondering if I’ll see or breathe anything like it in the next few months of my life. I don’t know if they have smog in South Korea; I’m guessing they do, it’s everywhere. Even here, ten miles away, in the form of black smoke you shouldn’t breathe or look at for too long.
I’ve spent most of this morning re-reading things I wrote when I was with you. It wasn’t much, I was too busy living to write anything down, which is disappointing. How am I supposed to live now?
It’s 2014, and I wasn’t very surprised when it happened, for once. A new year. It only took me 22 years to get used to the fact that time keeps slipping by. I’ve made friends with time, unlike most people, who are shocked when they look at a calendar and find it’s already Tuesday or March.
Is it Tuesday yet? I like Tuesdays. I was born on a Tuesday. Just because I like time doesn’t mean I keep track of it. Sometimes I don’t even believe in it.
The internet tells me the black smoke is all gone, the world ten miles away is no longer burning. This is good news. I wonder how long it would take me to walk ten miles. A long time, I bet. I can’t even walk to South Korea. Think of all the technology that time’s brought along with it.
The other day I was slack-jaw scrolling, having forgotten temporarily how to live, and I thought of you, in some tiny spark in my hibernating brain. I looked to see how you’re doing, and you’re doing the same as always. That was good news. I still have a few memories of you up here in my brain. I even remember what your voice sounds like and the color of those jeans you wear all the time including the day I met you.