Now is now. I confess a strange sense of detachment from this moment- choosing instead to live more and more inside my own head. Moments from my past live in my mind as an odd collection of images, sensations, and emotional upwellings. I find comfort in some, regret in others, but no release.

Moving on- always moving on. What else is time but the flow of change? So the "now" is always in motion, and we move with it. I am not the man I was before, and I will not stay the man I am at this moment for much longer. But I will hold this identity -this image of my life- in my mind as if it's real.

It will be there for me to reflect upon, to mourn, to love or regret in hindsight, for those times when I turn my back on the flow of time and look into my past hoping to find something of strength. Now is now, but I'm not yet ready to be here yet.