Passing rather than wasting time

I parted my hair differently today, in order to affect some change. I did it away from any reflective services, so I could approach a mirror later and the day and be greeted by a stranger. Who is that in the mirror? He's going to change things. To tell you the truth, it looked like me, but with my hair parted in a slightly different way.

Outside, the sky is shades of blue and grey behind puffs of smoky clouds. I am sitting on a bench, wearing jeans and a t-shirt, looking calm, a book open in my lap. Inside, I assure you, is where the real story is being told.

Sometimes I don't sweep the floor for weeks, because it seems to get dirty again so quickly. Perhaps that is the native state of the floor. Who am I to change its customs?

Like a flower, perhaps one day I too will bloom. Though, if one starts to think in such terms you can't help but remember the wilting. That will happen too, one day, I suppose.

It would be nice to know the hour of my death. I think, with that small piece of knowledge, I could finally get on with the business of living.

We should be in love, you and I. Not for any good reason. But, as you know, reason has little to do with love.