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random jotting.
Time is powerful, it pushes and pulls at all of us.

I wake up twenty to thirty minutes before my alarm sounds, hating the way my sheets have peeled back and pushed me right into the morning. Time determines how fast we walk, it brings us all into the universe and stops abruptly once we’ve exhausted it. Time provides life’s deadlines and sometimes gives us second chances. Time drives everything we are and every breath we take, every food we taste because we “might never get the chance again....” The mortality of a minute reminds us how human we really are. Nevertheless I feel like a ghost within my own body, an unchangeable figment dreading the moment I find my youth has been wasted on people that have eventually forgotten me. Or moved on, onto better things....onto better people. I dread whenever it all crashes into me; the regret, the smiles, the moments I can't ever retrieve because time has already parched my memory of their existence.

Life is so very short. Yet when I imagine mine stretching out before me I wonder what I'll do with all of that time. Surely someone else would appreciate it more than me and would know what to do with it; if I could I'd even pass it onto them. But we’re products of our upbringing and surroundings, us humans. We have always shied away from the truth. Because it hurts. To feel pain is to become aware of our weaknesses, and we want to feel like gods - indestructable like mountains, instead of ancient, breakable sailboats wading fretfully through a storm. Day after day life has pulled me thus far and I’m still struggling to either find or create inner peace. I’m on a road that splits into thousands of paths......and I won't choose one.





 
 
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