:V

Where is the time? Is it going away, escaping the frame of reference
That surrounds yourselves? Slightly farther than the plans crafted
and carefully adjusted, but yet within view? Internalized, hidden away,
known only to the inner heart?

Time is subjective, a concept; its existence and impact utterly dependent on your perception of it. Thinking about that makes you bitterly acknowledge you're barely responsible enough to keep potted basil alive, much less an entire dimension of reality.

You can kind of relate. You sometimes just stop existing in any tangible, reachable sense - for bullshit arbitrary reasons like spanners tossed into the deus ex machina from on high. It's 12-indulgently cliche, that your (narrative?) gears never get spinning 'til you've delved to the depressive depths of your
.

The inner heart's as much a fucking consensus mess as any other part of you, bee tee dubs. Thanks for asking. You're such a goddamn open-hearted individualcollective your circulatory system's practically diffusing. Your capacity for compassion and even-handedness through interpersonal fractiousness is lauded by many.

You suppose that's a good thing.