When we're kids, we feel like we have all the time in the world. It's awesome, freeing. And when we're eager for something to arrive or be done, time always slows to a crawl. At least that's how it was for me when I was young.
Now? Time speeds by as fast as light. You blink, and an hour's gone. Working on a project that you think will only take an hour? Look at the clock, it's been three.
Am I right? This can't just be me. It seems the older I get the quicker time ticks by. The long list of things I should do added in with the list of things I want to do just never seem to get done because time is gone with the snap of my fingers.
Maybe it's because more things demand our time as we get older, but when I think back to college even, I wonder how I had so much time then and so little time now. And I feel like I squandered that time I had. Why didn't I write more? Why didn't I read more? Why the hell didn't I fill it up with all of the things I want to do now?
Time is supposed to be measured precisely, every second, every minute the same length, immutable. But for me, it shifts and changes, and laughs at me when I think I have more of it than I truly do.
What I'd give to be a kid again, ignorant, seeing the hours stretch before me, endless.
Instead I need to parcel out every second and make sure I'm using my time wisely.
How long did it take to write this post?
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