There are certain things I want to do with my life. Simple things, really, when looked at in retrospect. I’m not a complicated person. Sometimes I do complicated things but I don’t think I’m a complicated person. I want simple things. I want to learn how to change my own oil, I want to go airport hopping. In retrospect, these are just moments. Tiny moments. They are nothing. I want to live in Italy. But no matter the amount of time I spend there, in retrospect, it won’t be more than a blink of an eye. Sometimes we mistakenly assume that because these are the only years we live, they are the only years to exist. Time doesn’t need us. We may need it, we may want it in copious amounts, we may regret it or reject it or embrace it but it has no need for anyone. Time is the only thing that can lie so stagnant yet never stop moving. We are powerless against time.
The aging, the regret, the wasted hours, none of it cares for us and yet so many of us waste even more time pining after time lost. There’s no turning back. Time never looks back. Time infiltrates every little thing in life, and it treks on, never glancing back. Time is heartless and time is unbiased and times takes us all.
Sometimes we think that we take time. Time to smell the roses, time to mourn or rejoice or mature. We think we take time when we can, but it’s only ever been time taking us, one by one.