Unforgiven

So I found th perfect time for me t take my medicine and be just in time for bed. But really, what does time account for anymore? It needn't be a year t finally celebrate, but we all think so don't we? Quality over quantity, but we're still so concerned w th time. I really think I could make so much more sense if I wasn't half asleep now, but I try. So much I could write about, so much about th past. But why? I'm still gonna wake up feeling th same way, and th past still remains. So for now I figure, I would embrace this moment, so very peaceful. Awhile ago I was forcing myself t stay up, just so I could carry on a conversation, or whatever left of it. Right now, I'm not sure if I even have a choice t whether or not I fall asleep. Wow, it really annoys me that I don't make much sense t myself. I feel like I'm racing against time t complete all of what I wish t say before I inevitably fall asleep. But again, why th fuck am I so concerned w time when it's not like I can't carry on w this th next time I wake up. Unless I don't wake up then yeah.. That'll be awkward. Anyway I'm off, not as much as I would've liked t write, but then again I don't owe it t anyone.