The definition of me, and what defines me from you!
A doorbell rings in your head, you wonder from where it comes. Knowing there’s no doors around, you get confused. Impatiently the man ringing the bell seems to slam his finger on it more and more, the constant buzzing leaves you scatterbrained in your other so calm existence.
You get used to it, it never seems to go away. When you finally do, it’s too late and you just sigh at life standing there asking you where the heck you’ve been? He shakes his head muttering that he’s been trying to get ahold of you for ages!
But who are we human beings to say that something is too late? What gives us the right to speak in a matter we have no influence over ourselves? What defines “too late”?, when is the gutfeeling of that “Shit, now it’s over” justified?
