What an interesting concept. Time is ever present in our consciousness, yet elusive. It feels like a cosmic narcissist, something we revere with both admiration and fear, as if waiting for it to give us… what, exactly?
If we do nothing, we waste it. If we take it, we feel guilt or loss. All the while, it passes anyway. The best part of this paradox is that time is never clear about how much of it we have, or if we ever had it at all.
Time is neither friend nor foe, just a non-reciprocal utility we reference while pursuing our wildest dreams. Waiting for it costs us, while it takes unapologetically. We never truly have time, but we move through it as if we do.
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