early morning storms

Time has a stutter. June, inconsequential and carefree, flew past me in a ceaseless blur, a torrent of seconds that I found impossible to slow. Fourth of July was something I had looked forward to in a nostalgic and pseudo-patriotic way, but of course, it wasn't what I'd expected. Then, the pulsating shock of July Ninth, and lately, every minute crawls by me, hanging on as long as possible and then lingering in my memory to make itself last beyond it's normal life span; looking only five days behind me is like gazing into eternity. Has it really been only ten days since my life flipped itself upside-down? I feel like a different person, as if within these ten days I've been born and grown all over again in some other person's body, then reminded of the shell that I belong to. My thoughts are full of significant emptiness; my consciousness tiptoes through my mind and shies away from the things that disrupt the quiet, like I'm avoiding metal in the Operation board game. It's difficult to fit into my own skin this way, and looking in the mirror, I barely recognize the stranger in front of me; or rather, I mistake her for a sister or my mother. I haven't lingered long enough in this body to really get used to it again, and yet, this week has been...infinite. I can't imagine where more time can be found, when it seems as if ten lifetimes are stretched behind me with memories and insights to fill several more. So much emotion and energy has been spent that I imagine my soul to be old and withered, but none the wiser for it's age and silence.