Time is a funny thing. It keeps me up at night. It speeds me through my day. It stresses me out and I never seem to have enough of it. But what is time, really?
Why does it dictate my life the way I allow it to? Why do I dread looking at the clock only to rush my way through the day?
I sit and think. And think and think.
I’ve been told to embrace each moment as if it’s the last. Hoping that tomorrow will make more sense and that life will pan out…. in time. But tomorrow will soon be my yesterday. And my yesterdays are full of hope for tomorrow. Today will soon be yesterday too…. What did I get out of it aside from a muddled memory of running through the rat race of life? Will the moments add up and finally click for me? Or will I continue to work to live and live to work in this rut I call independence?
I appreciate the small things in life… a child’s smile. The warm windy breeze. The sound of waves crashing. The warmth of my blankets. I appreciate the kind gestures of others. The way my chest sinks when I can make someone else smile. The feeling of a warm embrace. It is those moments that have filled my life with joy. They have outweighed the uncertainties. But I can’t help to question why. Why do the little things mean so much when the negative seems to come in waves of destruction?
How is it that my stress levels can bring me to my knees in tears yet a simple song can remove the pain? A kiss on my forehead or a hand run through my hair?
The questions keep coming and I have yet to find the answers. Maybe I will in time… but again, what is time?
