We live in the dream that all are set according to our preferred timeline.
When they stop or where to begin.
But we couldn’t.
There are no bounds or limits.
What will happen, will happen.
The ball will keep on rolling
Even as we choose to stand still.
Time is just a concept.
It can move slowly or slip too fast.
Sundays will come and return.
Even permanence becomes a mere transience.
It’s amazing how the years debunked and affirmed the things I once declared.
Funny how my 7-year old self knew she’d love high ceilings, wooden stairs and glass panels.
In the same way I learned that my 11-year old self’s ideal man is no longer worth a 5-second stare.
Each day we get nearer to the version of US that we’re meant to be.
The same amount of closeness to death where the US that we have become no longer matter.