Time: a study
Time. Four letters. There are so many words longer than time, and yet, those four manage to manage our lives. Life. Another four letter word. So important that makes longer words seem miserable, unimportant, unseen, unloved. Love. Guess what. Four letters. And as much as needed as the other two. Another four letter word. And as important as those above. But time. Ah, time. Life. Love. Time rule them both. All four letter words, grammar be excused. But what is time? Is it the seconds, minutes, days, centuries, eons? Is time a moment, an event, or is it the limbo between moments, between events? Is there lost time? Do we have enough time? What if we had more time? What would we do? Would it be worth it? Do we need more time? After all isn't it what this is all about? Aren't we desperately trying to get more time? And how do we use it? There's no such thing as lost time. Even sleeping, when we aren't doing anything physical for a moment, there's so much going on in our body, in our brains, that calling it “lost” is almost like cursing it. I felt I hadn't been having enough time, sometimes I still feel it. Like I needed more time. But if I had more time, I'd just make that limbo bigger. There's just so much that I could accomplished, that I could have done, if I had had this epiphany sooner. Why do we try to get more time? Why do we try to control it? Time is unpredictable. If we knew how much time do we have, what'd we do? Use what we have, or use it to try getting more of it? Time is a matter of principles. Of priorities. “Why?” You'd say. Because money isn't and have never been the currency. Time is. What we sell, what we buy. We sell our current time, in order to get Time later to spend with others, to create moments with others. We are constantly choosing where to spend our time with. And there's so much happening at the same, that we're always giving up time for something to use time on another. And we regret when we don't choose well. Because Time is different for each one of us. My time is different than yours, for infinite reasons. For some, time is of the essence. The essence of what exactly? I don't know, and maybe neither do they. And what do we do? We mold our time to match the time of our lives with the Time of the life of people we love. Time. Life. Love. How intrinsic those four letter words are. And how could one be without the other? If there's love, but times don't match, there's pain. And pain is a hard thing to live through. Pain. Four letters. Again. Time. Life. Love. Pain. Four four letter words. If love turns into pain, we get stuck on time, and life doesn't move. If there's no life, love and pain may be the only ones allowed to exist, for a certain time. So, what's the point? What is it that we struggle? To have time. To live. To love. It hurts. And it frightens me. Us. That we may not have the time to live, to love because we sold our time in order to get more time later. And that time never comes. Because your time ran out. Because you ran out of time. So I'll live, I'll love. I'll hurt. I will make my time worth. I will respect others time, but I'll care for my own, even if that brings me pain. For me, or someone else. Because time, and how you use it, makes who you are. Because time rules. Rules Love. Pain. And life. But I can't make it rule me.
