Why are you moving so fast? Like a bullet. I hate that. That thing. When you know it’s flashing right before your eyes and you want to make sure every minute, no, second counts. Whatever that means. I mean, what “counts”. Some of my best seconds are alone. In my car blasting the music so high that it magically blocks the outside world and all its ugly problems from my mind. Alone with just my thoughts and head boppin’ tunes. And to be honest, I love that. Because that is what’s important in the moment, in the second. Seemingly miniscule in the grandiose picture of life. But to me, that counts.