Essence of Time

Time is defined as an indefinite continued progress of existence and events of the past, present, and future regarded as whole. How wonderfully ambiguous is that? 

I’ve not known another person more bothered by time than myself. Maybe, because I lost plenty along the way, I started running alongside it, trying to jump onto the next thing before whatever was before was ever done. And maybe, I didn’t care, as long as I could run and keep up, it didn’t matter. But how does one run without failing and falling? 

I set myself some of the most absurd and unrealistic expectations in life and I’ve come to understand why it’s been so difficult, why I’ve struggled so much with pretty good results and absolutely zero satisfaction. Maybe finding that answer was perhaps the best thing I have ever done for myself and it’s crazy because it’s something I have always known, it’s common sense, and yet I’ve been ignorant. 

A professor who is very close to me once said that I had a void that needed filling and every time it was empty, I sought something or someone to fill that space. It sounded presumptuous, completely ridiculous and at that moment, even though I listened to her, I did not quite take it to heart or mind at all. Because it’s so much easier to believe that we are without faults, that we are not the reason for our own downfall and imperfections. 

So, I let myself believe what I needed to, that I did not have any such voids in my heart that needed filling. The thing is, she never told me where this void was, so why did I believe it was in my heart and not my head? Because I knew better and I’ve always known, that I have been a little more broken and empty, but it hurt to admit that aloud, let alone be told by someone who knows me a lot less than my best friend. It only makes sense for her to be wrong even though she was completely right. 

So, I let that fact slide even though every single time I made another mistake or close to one, needed something more than calls and texts, every time I couldn’t differentiate a friend for something else, I remembered my void. I tried filling it with music, with gardening and books and poetry and sleep and every damn thing I could get my hands on. But I’ve been just about broken as I was and maybe there is no fixing this. Maybe, sometimes, you can’t fix everything and that’s okay. Maybe you’re not supposed to fix everything. And sometimes you need to tell yourself whatever helps you sleep better at night, right? 

It bothered me a little too much and once I started acknowledging my void, I started to realize I had tendencies; things I did because I thought I should, things I believed defined my existence and gave me purpose. And these things that have been hurting me were things I did to myself, things that have tortured my very soul were of my own doing. And I’ve had a hard time letting them go, but no, it isn’t a perfect fix because I don’t know how to fix myself or anything broken about me. 

I don’t know how to put myself back together without tape and glue that showed I’ve been broken before and scars and wounds that won’t heal sometimes so it always looks like I’m fighting a war on my own. I don’t know it all but I am trying. 

It’s like this, for as long as there is soil and water and sun, plants will grow even when the pot may be broken. It’s amazing how they thrive even in the most excruciating weather and maybe I grew so accustomed to the weather and conditions that I let my survival depend on constant fear, pain, and paranoia. 

It’s been frightening that even when everyone let my reigns go, I couldn’t lose control, that I had to keep running and chasing the next thing without letting myself breathe. And I’m worn out, I’m exhausted so I slept every waking hour of my life these past few months. The irony of that sentence… 

I did, I slept every moment I got enough time to breathe, because I didn’t want to think anymore, I didn’t want to care anymore, I didn’t want to interact or exist. I just needed to stop running, and sleep. I was tired of time and how it never seemed exhausted of chasing it’s own tail over and over again every day. So, I took the clocks off my walls, I stopped wondering when the morning sun settled into afternoons and when the moon came up to greet the evening sky. I simply did not want to think about the time that was running out, I wanted it to stop, I needed time to standstill with me. Because I couldn’t go on anymore. 

But what was I running out of time, is something I’ll never know, but it was the feeling of losing faith, wasting days and precious hours that’ll never quite come back. I was getting older by the hour, and I hadn’t done that which others may have and I was in this insatiable competition with absolutely no one and I was exhausted. I gave up. 

In sleeping to forget how the world moved on without my presence, I missed quite a lot. I missed all the quiet mornings I used to wake before the world where I had coffee and was alone with my thoughts and words. I missed the many sunsets that colored the walls of my room in deep shades of amber. I missed the smell of my books, the kind of subtle hints of fresh print and maybe a little bit of mint that tells you just how old the pages were. I missed the way my pen felt in my hands when thoughts flowed and turned into words on every page of my journal. I missed losing the voice in my head and when everything got really quiet every time I sat on my own at the park, mesmerized by the million lives that unfolded around me where I existed enough but not too much. I missed the rain and how cold it got with every breeze and watching the raindrops trickle down my windowpane, it was simple yet fulfilling. I missed things that made me, me. 

In running alongside something I could never control, I lost control of the things I had. The world seems different now that I’m awake but the chaos that existed within seems to have subsided. For now. 

I got so consumed with a lot of things and maybe I’ve forgotten how to breathe. I chased that which I couldn’t have in hopes of avoiding a void I knew I couldn’t fill. I let myself believe otherwise, and I’ve looked away from my shattered pieces for a long time now that I don’t quite recognize my own reflection anymore. I’m learning, still growing and maybe I am broken, and maybe there’s nothing I can possibly do to fix that.

Maybe the time I’ve come to hate so much will never change for me, maybe there will always be a void in me even when I’ve had much to love and do. But in this very moment, I’ve learnt to live with my void. That’s the only thing that matters, not time, but this moment right here. Stay in it, dwell within this moment and everything that’s to unfold will eventually happen but this moment will never come back. This moment here is all that matters and that is the essence of time.