The White Rabbit.

If I were anyone but me I would be you, but I'm not you so why would I be anything but me? I cannot be anything but me. I am me. I am me all the time. I sit inside my skin, like a seed inside fruit. I cannot be eaten, but I can be planted, if I'm not discarded, that is.
I'm losing track of days again. I had no idea it was the 31st. I had no idea it was 7PM. I had no idea that I had no idea until I looked at the calender and realized that I have not been realizing anything but what is inside me. Dates, times and headlines like coils and springs under my mattress line themselves along my spine and I must remember them, because if I don't then I must not be human, Humans remember dates, and times, and Japan(did the plant blow up yet?) Shit like that is important. Waiting for the inevitable is important. Standing and waiting and feeling your spine curve and buckle under pressure is important. It's what people do. When they smile at each other. When they say things to each other. When they go to work, and they go places and do things. They really mean to wait and remember and remember to wait, for the inevitable.
I must be broken, because I am not waiting. Because I have no idea what time it is unless someone else is coming, and I have no clue as to what the date is or should be, unless someone else is leaving. I am always late and if I am late its because I think I have time and then, according to someone, I don't have time, and suddenly, it as if I'm not me anymore because my time is someone else's and its incorrect, they say, its incofuckingrrect. And then I think it is Tuesday. And it must be mid March, but, it suddenly isn't because someone made an appointment to see me on the 2nd. April is in a few days. And I think, that's impossible. And suddenly, it like, I'm not me anymore, I am someone else. I'm someone else's day. I'm, something else entirely. Because my days and my months don't match what someone else has, neither does my watch, and suddenly, I'm someone else, because, I'm incorrect.
Not right.
Or, am I?
I want someone to find me and not tell me about time. I just want them to be happy to see me. On whatever day. Who cares?