i have too much time on my hands. in my hands? how do you hold time in your hand. do you let it rest on top or does it stick to sweaty palms? does time actually matter? especially when you are eating sticky oatmeal with butter and splenda at 7am and not thinking about sleeping anytime soon. i stay up so i can hear the birds and send my mom off to work and let her remind me that i'm getting too thin and 'thin is not in'. it's ok mom, oatmeal is supposed to stick to your ribs, isn't it? maybe. i hope not. when horses eat oats does it turn to rancid oatmeal in their stomachs? probably. do horses really eat oats or is that just a lie and a fairy tale? i'll ask my sister when she wakes up, she will know. but i will not remember to do this. i lied, it's not quite seven yet. it is 6:57. and when time is irrelevent many other things are made increasingly so. wasted time, wasted memory. wasted pills cracked in half and then in quarters and then mashed between teeth. if i do sleep, believe me when i wake up this will be gone. ok, it is 7 now.