All I want to do is make every single clock just. stop. I want to place periods after every letter and every word in order to make my life a little less hectic and a little more idle. I savour the time when nothing seems to exist except me and my writing, and the day stretches onwards like an infinite expanse of pavement without an end in sight.
Too often I find myself glancing at the clock only to realize that it is, in fact, 4am and I still have yet to accomplish most, if not all, of my tasks for the day. There have been too many times to count when someone has informed me of the date only to have my response be a gasp of utter dismay and complete shock.
Time seems to be sliding through the tiny cracks between my fingers. The harder I try to capture it, the more elusive it becomes. Time is an ever-constant shadow hanging over my shoulder, whispering in my ear, taunting me with secrets to a future that is creeping up all too swiftly.
That isn’t to say that I don’t eagerly anticipate the future. I do. I have tried to stop living for the future and focus on the present. But the more I seem to focus on the here and now, the faster it seems to fly by.
It would be amazing to control time. To be able to rewind moments that give you sheer and unadulterated bliss over and over again, to fast forward over those melancholy and painful periods, or to pause life and time where everything just seems too perfect for words. Not to mention having the ability to tape over those parts that do not need to be remembered.
Time. Such a tricky phenomenon. Half the time we’re waiting for it to hurry, hurry, hurry, and in the end, we can never get enough of it.
So slow down. Way down.