Father-time can kiss my ass

Time. It’s that weird constant that is ever-changing. We either have too much on our hands or not enough to spare. It’s the only answer I seem to get these days. How long will it take for me to heal? When can I see you?

“It’s going to take time.”

“Just give me some time.”

It feels like it’s standing still most days. I’ve been stuck in my head and in life, and the world just kept passing me by. Everyone else seemed to be growing and thriving, and I was just frozen in time. Now that I’m desperate for a change, it’s mocking me. My indifference to its passing has now become my torment. At every turn, there seems to be no light at the end of the tunnel, just the vastness of time staring back.

It’s like being asked to run a marathon, but no one tells you when it’s going to end. You just have to keep running and hope the finish line shows itself. At first, the running is exhilarating, but the fatigue starts to set in; the doubt. When will I feel again? When does the pain stop? When do I stop wanting to die? When do I get my happy ending? How long are you supposed to run for?

(Originally written on Nov 13. 2022)