Sometimes I feel as if I am living half a life. As if part of me is here on Earth, going through the mundane routine of life. The other part of me is what feels to be somewhere else. It tends to happen when I lose focus on a task, or when I lose my train of thought, or when I slip into a daydream or a mindless conversation within my head. Slipping. I do seem to do a lot of slipping. Slipping through time and memories, remembering some so vividly but then forgetting something so crucial. It feels as if my concept of time is warped: ten years ago feels like just yesterday in the backyard up in the trees while seven minutes ago feels like months back in the office pouring the same old cup of joe.

Let's go back to slipping. I do feel like time is just slipping through my fingers like sand, the type of sand that is loose and impossible to control or shape. Each grain of it representing some form or measurement of time and some record of past, present, or future memories. Maybe that's why I feel like I'm slipping. Grains of my life are just missing and I slip through the empty spaces. Now, if that is the case, where did all my sand go and how much longer do I have left?