The hardest and best lesson I’ve learned in my life is that time is consistent.
There are days when you’re doing something that drags. For someone like me who cannot and will never be able to tolerate boredom, it’s hell. Earlier in life it feels like those days will never end.
Over time you learn that just as much as they happen, they do end. It doesn’t make them any more pleasant, it just makes you aware.
It can give you strength to know that the days do end. That you went through it once and can do it again.
Then there are days when time needs to stop. One more hug. Just one more. Please. Don’t let it be time.
And, perversely you can wish the time to speed up at the same time as you want it to stop. I want you to be happy again. To look relaxed. To feel a glimmer of your old self for the nanoseconds before the self gets removed from this world forever.
Time is not space. But it feels like it. One week later is miss your presence. Your hugs. The sound of nails clacking to wake me up. Things being packed away. Time is moving on. The space you left can never be filled.