Serendipity

If time is a variable, then is life its opposing force?

Because if time flies — swift and merciless — and life simply stands still, then what am I? Nature evolves, seasons shift, and yet I remain… unmoved. A stagnant variable. I feel time pass through me like wind through empty branches, and all it leaves behind is the weight of anxiousness — the kind that whispers, maybe the broken variable… is me.

Evolution is supposed to be natural. So why do I feel like nothing is shifting?

There’s so much hope, so many promises, all hanging by a single thread — the last bit of soul I still have left. And I can’t let go. Not yet.

I’m tired. Exhausted.

No one ever tells you about the aftermath of chasing a dream — about the silent toll it takes. To chase a dream and catch it, even briefly, is to know it was real. I touched it. I felt it. And now, I’m haunted by it. Yearning for something I once held.

Time flies. And I’m scared.

Scared that it’ll reach its end…
And I’ll still be here, left behind.