TM 228 - 3am
Time used to matter a lot more. I almost finished that sentence with “when I was a pilot.” As if I’m not anymore. I don’t think I could ever not be a pilot, no more than I could choose to just not be Caprican. But I’m not … what I was.
I was never the most punctual person. Not much of a surprise there. I was never the best about getting to that briefing at 0500 on the dot … partly because I was never the best about getting to sleep at what you’d call a reasonable hour.
Still, I didn’t used to see three a.m. all that often.
I do now. I think I do, at least. I must. I just don’t really … notice it. It doesn’t seem important, what the clocks say. Just another thing to distract me, to keep me from being able to focus.
I know what I have to do, and once it’s done it won’t matter anymore if I got any sleep or if I pissed off everyone I knew in the process or if I’m in any fit state to hold a command. All that will be just as useless as the time on the frakking clock.
Which I used to try to pay attention to, because it used to matter a lot more. Like a lot of things.
Muse: Kara Thrace
Fandom: Battlestar Galactica
Word Count: 227