The speed at which it passes caters not to the whims of our desires, but rather to the flow of our routines.
Slow, fast, they are all but relative adjectives acting as powerless sedatives to our monotone lives.
A day may seem like a thousand years to one whose activities consist of waking, eating, playing, and the oft inadvertent sleeping.
Vanity of vanities says the preacher, all is vanity.
A verse commonly known but rarely understood. A cry for rescue from an existence defined by nothingness.
A deep resonance with a kindred spirit like me. A truth revealed for the world to see.
Time...
An hour spent in solitude passes slower than a day with her.
The beauty in the moment lies completely in the fact that it is fleeting.
And only when it dissipates does one meditate on its value, too little too late...
Time stops for no one. Time waits for no one.
Running out of time remains a problem for both myself and countless others.
Time, thou art a cruel mistress. Wherefore must thy sting hurt so?
Word of advise: do not flirt with time lest you find yourself wasting away in the cesspool of its victims.
Time flies...
For every moment that wastes and decays, another one enters the fray, then flies away
Those I try to capture, but to no avail.
I am often left with just memories to reminisce, bits and pieces of a time once had.
Time irreversible, pieces irreparable, but memories unforgettable...
But alas, I lie to myself, unwilling to admit the sobriety of my timidity.
To be honest, not a day passes that I don't think about how the year that splits our meeting leaves me helpless, alone, and... missing...
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