I am running out of time. No. Time cannot be run out of. No such thing as time actually. The concept invented by mere human. To get hold of something, to hope for after we fail of doing a thing or two.
Now and then, I hit my very bottom too often. However, I still keep those hopes for surfacing into new horizon everytime I hit rock bottom. Today, I am heading downward again. Wish I could fly like a hero, wish I knew that I was heading to the enlightment. My next life chapter.
Since October I’ve been trying to keep my journal for my next book. I jotted down one or two, but I kept one phrase clear each time I wrote something. Someone who kept me afloat. Who challenged me eventhough he felt like he’s got nothing to do with that. And there goes my words to him: writing my next book.
Bismillah… and he is in it already. My present tense.