time flies

i sat reading a book pondering on what i could ever possibly do to make myself feel better i glance at the clock it is 2pm on a sullen sunday i am filled with resentment resentment towards myself, towards them they speak in a low tone almost as if i cannot hear it, as if i have to tune in to hear the muttering. i take a glance into the mirror across from me i do not recognize this face staring back at me a bitter taste fills my mouth what an odd face! its not mine, it doesnt feel right on this body. so whose is it? I look back at the clock, it is now 8pm on this dreadful sunday. where'd the time go? i try to recall the time nothing i can recollect in my mind, i glance around the room. the furnitures moved and there happens to be notes left around, it wasnt me leaving those notes, they are in a different handwriting. time flies.