I want to write. I need to write. But my stomach is too full and my head is too full and there are too many noises bearing down on me to get inside my head. I just want to create something and to be inspired by my own words, but all I can think about is the time ticking away and what everyone else is thinking. Tick tick tick. Too many people and too little time. For me. Do I have too much or not enough? Too much? Not enough. I need to digest my food and digest my thoughts and find some answers to long-asked questions. One day at a time. One hour at a time. One conversation at a time. One word at a time. One breath at a time. Time. It’s all we have but we have no idea what to do with it.