Time

The only thing that is precious in this world is time.

David thought I was being profound, when I told him this. (David often thinks I am profound, which, I guess, is kind of nice, when I often feel I struggle to be interesting)

If a truth is profound, then maybe I was.

But, nah, not profound, I just think it is true.

Real.

Something, perhaps, that we lose sight of, as we waste it so often.

It is the only thing we can't get back. Time. Time to live. Time to love. Time to be free.

I wish my first boyfriend, Anthony, hadn't drunk himself to death. I wish one of my best mate, Tom's two bone marrow transplants had worked. I wish my great mate Simon had never fallen off his bike that Saturday night and hit his head, drunk or not. I wish my great mate Fergus had got away from his lying, rat-faced bitch of a cheating boyfriend, before said rat-faced boyfriend gave him the HIV virus.

And what I want with all of them is more time.

We can work hard, for money, and for love, for that matter, but no amount of work will give you back time.

It is just true.

We all end up getting our bums wiped by someone else, and the only thing that separates us from that is time.