My transformation into a clock.

I can feel each second go by as if I'm slowly morphing into a clock. I feel seconds, I speak in minutes and hours. I constantly live in the realm of time; Time spent and time to come. I've begun to measure my life by "how many's." How many Sundays I have left, how many goodbyes. I've even counted how many grocery trip runs I have before leaving. I feel a constant battle is raging in my heart and head to eek out every possible moment with people and experiences here yet the warring side is encamped on the other hill of overwhelming pain and confusion. In church today I almost couldn't hear the sermon over the aching words, "how can I leave this church?" It's the kind of ache that doesn't subside with rationale; "you'll be back," "this isn't goodbye." I feel the ticking of precious, unattainable seconds go by as my aching heart keeps me motionless. Dramatic? Tell me about it. I don't like drama and I don't like this stage of the journey. But since it is part of the journey than I need to go through it. If this is a grieving process than I want to give it full credence, but I also don't want it to keep me from seeing other's pain and joys. I don't want to be a self-absorbed traveler. What fun would that be? I want to be present in every step but I want to stop looking at my own feet. It's just that right now the throbbing ache I feel keeps my head bent. I know I'll be able to look up again soon, but man are those ticking seconds ever loud!