Time Won’t Let Me Go

I couldn’t tell you when it happened, just when I began to notice it. It was a subtle nudge from my subconscious, telling me that the status quo was in flux. That the world had changed, and everything around me would be forever different.

I fought it, denied it, for so long, pretending that things were as they had always been. Soon, I began to question it, and when I went to the world demanding answers, the world commanded that I look within. It provided me with nothing more, other than its smug silence, daring me to put the pieces together.

So I did, assaulting the sublime with all the angst of a catcher in the rye. I searched for the source of this shift in balance, desperately trying to find my lost paradise. I refused to do as the world had suggested, looking without for the key to this quiet madness. Eventually, I realized such a quest would be ultimately fruitless, as I came to a very important conclusion.

Perhaps it was not the world that had changed; perhaps it was I who was no longer the same.

As I turned my gaze upon myself, I saw that with each day that had passed, I has slowly been shaped into an entirely different animal than I had believed. Each moment had tattooed itself upon my soul, etching lines on my face and new facets into my personality.

In all my raging against the machine, and with all my causeless rebellion, I had failed to see what was right before me the whole time. I had never noticed that as time washed over me, it also changed me. That with every breath I took, I was a slightly different person, and that as the world appeared to shift and evolve around me, in truth, it was simply my eyes that were changing.

My views, my opinions, my outlook, my understanding…it all culminated in the creation of a new beast.

Perhaps it is simply the nature of the species to be in a constant state of change. In a way, it would be utterly impossible to remain the same, even from one day to the next. It is not necessarily big, monumental changes that occur, but little, unnoticeable, seemingly insignificant changes, and when those minute changes are viewed together, they paint a picture of a being that has no set reality, no set base. The greatest constant in life is change.

It reminds me of something my old man used to say.

You never cross the same river twice, because with every drop of water that flows, it carries something with it. It takes something away, it leaves something different behind. Every second that ticks by reveals a new creation.

And somehow, I am still foolish enough to attempt to hold on, gripping my moments with brutal ferocity. Or attempting to, at least. Because, in the end, those moments are again like water: try as you might, you’ll never be able to grip them in your hand. At best, you can briefly hold them in your palm, watching as they slowly trickle away.

 

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