Dear time:

More often than not, I don't have enough of you - enough to get my work done, enough to get my domestic duties done, enough to play with my daughter, enough to be with my best friend. That you pass so slowly when we're apart, and so quickly when we're together. Yet here I am wishing you would pass faster, just to a certain point where she and I can be under one roof again, surrounded by four walls again, in each other's arms again, permanently.

I've done all that I can to speed you up when I want you to - caffeine, sleep (not in that order), distractions… nothing gets me to where I want to be faster. Time, you're cruel sometimes - you don't have enough for me when I need it the most, and give me an abundance of it when I don't… can we trade off? Can we even it out? What do you want in return? I don't have much money, but I'll give you what I've got to be with my girls… You want the truck? My undying love of life?

Otherwise, well, you suck.

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