Time. Sometimes I admire the beauty of the analog clock with its second-hand ticking away in mechanical, robotic fashion. It reminds me that time waits for no man; it seeps and slips away whether you are youthful or ancient, happy or depressed, energized or tired. Maybe that is why I prefer staring at the digital clock at the bottom of my screen as I am attempting to finish this post within the confines of my workspace, since it lulls me into a false sense of security that perhaps, time does not pass that quickly after all.
I'll be twenty-one come the middle of March. My parents have nurtured my development from toddler to teenager to the young adult I've become. From showering me with attention and affection in my adolescence, to entrusting me with utmost freedom (with snippets of advice and the odd scolding) in my late teens, they have shown me what it means to love their son. They've adapted their depiction of love over the years as I've matured. As much as I wish for the aging process to halt, the fact remains that they are nearly three times my age this year. I pray for time to take kindly to their health and happiness. Their old-fashioned pearls of wisdom can only serve to guide me through the trials and tribulations I will encounter over the next decade and more.
My last blog post was around two years ago. I certainly enjoy reading the posts as they remind me of how my life used to be, at least partially. Sometimes the most important things at that moment in your life can diminish so greatly in significance that you wonder if it was really ever that important to you at all. Time heals all wounds and solves most problems, but then again, maybe you were the root of the problem. If you don't wake up from dreamland, who will? If you don't grasp the opportunities that present themselves to you everyday, who can force you to? There are so many paths to take and so many choices to make; ultimately, it is these choices which shape our lives and define the deepest of our character traits.
It has been like this for quite sometime now, just that I haven't had the motivation to pen it down. I'd forgotten about this path of escapism. But, all things said, and this won't make much sense to anyone other than myself, I know what it feels like to feel this way again.