Prince.Skeletor
Don’t Be Like He-Man
Smoked some indica, now i'm eating milk and way too many chocolate chip cookies and I started wondering about time.
When I was a kid, I LOVED dunking chocolate chip cookies into a cold glass of milk. the crumbs floating in the milk like tiny planets, those were the days. Back then, I thought time was something simple: mornings for cartoons, afternoons for playing outside, evenings for cookies and milk.
Now I’m older, and I still love cookies with milk late at night. The taste hasn’t changed, but I have. And now, as I crunch into one, I ask myself what is time actually? Why does childhood feel like it stretched forever, while adulthood races past like a blur?
Then I remember Einstein said: “Time isn’t the same everywhere.” Even now, I sit here eating cookies, my head is technically older than my feet, my toes soaking in just a little more gravity from Earth’s core. So maybe part of me is living slightly slower, closer to that childhood pace, while my head rushes ahead with the years.
It’s a strange comfort thinking about it, my feet are younger, still hanging back, holding onto the taste of cookies and milk… while my head, impatient and older, is already worrying about tomorrow.
When I was a kid, I LOVED dunking chocolate chip cookies into a cold glass of milk. the crumbs floating in the milk like tiny planets, those were the days. Back then, I thought time was something simple: mornings for cartoons, afternoons for playing outside, evenings for cookies and milk.
Now I’m older, and I still love cookies with milk late at night. The taste hasn’t changed, but I have. And now, as I crunch into one, I ask myself what is time actually? Why does childhood feel like it stretched forever, while adulthood races past like a blur?
Then I remember Einstein said: “Time isn’t the same everywhere.” Even now, I sit here eating cookies, my head is technically older than my feet, my toes soaking in just a little more gravity from Earth’s core. So maybe part of me is living slightly slower, closer to that childhood pace, while my head rushes ahead with the years.
It’s a strange comfort thinking about it, my feet are younger, still hanging back, holding onto the taste of cookies and milk… while my head, impatient and older, is already worrying about tomorrow.
that indica breh
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