Time

Time

When I was younger, drama seemed to follow me around. 

A more proper statement might be that I followed drama around. 

But that’s neither here nor there. 

High school was made up of *likely* unnecessary never ending issues (being a teenager is hard), and home life was a toss up of stress and fights almost daily. So when I would have a really good day, I would wake up the next day and try my best to recreate it. From the time I woke up, to the breakfast I never had, the time I got to school at, the people I spoke to, to the halls I walked. I would linger around the location where the best part of my day was, hoping that same thing would happen again. If I didn’t care so much what other people thought of me at the time, you probably would have found me wearing the exact same outfit as well.

As you may have guessed, it never worked out. The more I attempted to control the situation, the worse the day got and instead of heading home with my head held high, feeling weightless, I would arrive home disappointed and feeling defeated. It felt like those great days were so few and far between. Days were filled with high school drama, a turmoil home life that I would later find out was not everyone’s norm and general feelings of unworthiness, that I wanted nothing more than to stop time and space. 

But we can’t.

Time is such a weird and invaluable thing. I simultaneously feel as though I am running out of it by the second and also have all the time in the world. The days I look back and can’t possibly believe it’s been a year since x y & z, leave me feeling like I’m not doing enough in life. Enough exploring, enough doing, enough loving. But other days I often say “Oh, I’ll get to that tomorrow” ***insert: yoga, laundry, a phone call, drinking more water etc, here***. Inevitably, tomorrow never comes, because well, I’ll get to that tomorrow. 

They say that as you get older, time slips through your fingers quicker. Days turn into weeks, turn into years, turn into… how has it been 15 years since x y & z?! But is it really an attribute of a higher number in years or are we just more aware of life, of our fleeting memories, of the feelings we’re so desperately trying to hold on to and recreate. These days when I long for that happy feeling, the all consuming safe cozy one, I surround myself with the people who created those happy moments in the first place. And not to recreate that same moment, but to create more of them. I’m doing my best to soak in my surroundings as time passes me by, create deeper connections with friends and family, and honestly, really choose where I spend my energy. Because those bad days are going to come, and time is going to pass us by and when that happens, I want to look back in 15, 30, 57 years and know that I put my energy in where it was deserved, I created memories with the best of the best, I was there for family when they needed it and I loved fiercely and unconditionally. 

Long gone are the drama filled days I was trying to escape from all those years ago.