Excuse me, I’m breaking up with you…



Dear Time,

It’s over. I’m breaking up with you.

I’ve spent a lot of effort trying to manage you. I work three jobs and try to manage a social life – keeping up with you is exhausting…

We have a long history. In grade four, when my Dad asked me what I wanted for my birthday, do you know what I said?

that's me in the red!

An agenda.

That’s right – I felt, at nine years old, that I needed a more efficient way to organize my appointments.

All of a sudden I’m 26 and I’m not quite sure how I got here. I’ve been a slave to you too long and I’ve spent a lot of effort trying to figure you out.

I’m not sure if I’m where I’m supposed to be at 26 – and it doesn’t matter. I’m going to live my life and figure things out as I go along.

There’s no turning back, Time**. I’m moving on.

I will no longer be a slave to your demands. I’ve made up my mind.

I feel better already.



**Accidental Cher joke.