An Open Letter To Time
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An Open Letter To Time

My uncontrollable friend

An Open Letter To Time

Dear Time,

You ruthless son of a you-know-what. Why do you take so long when I want you to speed up and speed up when I want you to slow down? Where are the batteries to your remote? Why are you the one thing in my life that I can't control?

You are single-handedly responsible for all of our aging -- we grow from infant to toddler and graduate from daycare to elementary school. You move so fast, we blink and we are teenagers, lying to our parents and trying to find ourselves before you run out, before you leave us in an eternal state of feeling lost and insecure. Yet, all the while, we pray that you speed up, we long for you to grant us our membership to adulthood and freedom.

And then something funny happens. Our wish is granted and your forces have shoved us past childhood and into responsibility. Everything we do is a complete and utter race against you. You are our greatest competitor, and an undefeated one at that. You're such a show off -- you can't just lose one race? It's like you live for deceiving us; just as we actually wish for you to speed up, you pace yourself, “Take your time."You mock us as you activate your slow motion setting in our most distressing moments. But then as we catch up, when we feel as though we just may pass you at the roundabout, you kick up your feet and leave us in the dust. Our lives are feeling full and exciting and you decide it’s time to sprint ahead.

We grow up and we wish to grow down. We look back and ask where you have gone. "Where has time gone?" we remark, nostalgically. So, answer the age-old question, why don't ya? Where are you? You're gone without a trace. The only proof of your existence are the inevitable cracked wrinkles beneath our eyes.

You probably hate that we are constantly trying to measure you and claim we own you. "I have one hour," we say, as if you are ours entirely. We wear you on our wrists to claim our ownership, as if our management of you will somehow grant us more of you. You know we are doing it wrong. You know it is not about the amount of you we have but the amount of passion for living that we pour into that slot. I have to hand it to you, you're wiser than most think. You're like, wise beyond your years...

Oh, time. I guess what I am trying to say is that in the broad scheme of things, I wish you would slow down. I'm approaching the years where I begin to ponder how you have slipped past me in your invisible cloak. I remember when I was a toddler and I thought about what I would be like when I grew up, when you would give me enough of you to be tall and capable. And here I am, a young adult and I wish for you to freeze me in my youth.

I know you laugh mockingly as we whine, "There's not enough time!" Because you know that there is. You are the one universal thing every single living creature on this Earth can share. You are here forever. You have been here since the beginning of time.

You know if we use you wisely, we will not ask you to slow down nor yell at you to scurry along.

You know that the amount we have of you is sufficient enough to accomplish anything, so long as we focus our faculties on that task.

You know that those who pray for a little more of you should be careful what they wish for, because too much of you is a long and lonely wish.

I think that if you could talk, you'd probably tell us to be thankful for the amount of you we have and also the amount that we do not. Why? Because you have seen it all. You have seen births and first kisses, new friendships and marriages. However, with that, you have also seen deaths and breakups, divorces and betrayals. Turns out you're not all that you have been summed up to be.

But then again, that's easy for you to say -- you have all the time in the world.


All of Those Who Share You

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This article has not been reviewed by Odyssey HQ and solely reflects the ideas and opinions of the creator.
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