Dichotomy of Time, in short

The dichotomy of time is my most loved concept. Time is such a mysterious reality, a realistic mystery, it does not lie but it eludes you- every single moment. It's reality but it's never truth. Somehow, that's more romantic to me than the red roses I received on valentines day in 2019. Somehow, this concept of time that keeps taking away my life simultaneously keeps me insatiable; for I keep ending back to it, no matter where I choose to start.

Have you ever gone back and read things you wrote more than 3 years ago, exchanges you had, poems you kept, and little subliminal messages archived into your stories? I do. I went back and read messages I had in an old account with another account that has already ceased to exist. Our messages remain- little words of pain, truth, confessions, and lies. I realize I cannot see myself typing the same words ever again. I am not that person anymore. The memory is so far and detached from who I've become that it does not feel like I've experienced it at all. Time. 

But then, I went back and read an even older journal written in a place I'll never go back to. Words of admiration, confessions, and little sweet nothings- but not lies. Those words remained true over the decade. However, I do not see myself writing the same words ever again either. The memory is so dear and fresh as if brand new, but at this age, I have developed a fear of losing things that aren't even mine, to begin with.

That's the common denominator. I let go first, of something that wasn't mine. I stopped trying to attain something for fear of losing it before it even became mine. Time does that to you. After you see just a little bit of life, you realize you can see almost everything there is to see in the world had you stayed in one place from the beginning. You realize it's the same everywhere. People are losing time, everywhere.