hop aboard the guilt express

Time. We are all obsessed with it. Or maybe I just speak for myself, all the personalities in my head. I make out lists, I set goals, and I judge myself on how fast I can get them all accomplished. Tick tock, check and scratch. But there's never enough time, is there? The list is never entirely blackened out, is it? There's always something looming overhead, something I had all intentions of doing, all intentions of addressing. But then time ran out. Or I got distracted. Or something more important or more exciting popped up.

I'm sitting here at the airport, waiting for the vehicle that will end my vacation, and I can't help but feel a bit guilty for the boxes left unchecked and the T's left uncrossed. I didn't spend enough time with so-and-so. I didn't even visit such-and-such. I meant to have that conversation with X. I meant to have that lunch with Y. If only there had been more time....

But the guilt is meaningless to everyone with the exception of me. Just a small stone in the pit of my stomach that I have to live with. So-and-so can't feel it. Such-and-such can't see it. My face might break out and my nails may get bitten, but no one knows the real reasons.

So I beg you, what's the point? I'll let it go and forget about it by the time I get back to my own life. For now though, I'll sit here and mourn the things that didn't happen, the crap I didn't get to, the time I lost by filling it with other agendas. I may never get to them all. I may never finish everything I set out to do. But I tried my best, and I suppose that's all that matters.