When I look at my calendar and realize that it's already March 2019, I immediately ask myself where I lost so much time. Two-thirds of the school year completed already? My short-term goals of doing well on end-of-the-year finals and AP exams are coming up so soon now that I think about it, and considering how quickly time has passed already, long-term goals far from now are just waiting to pounce.

Time is so strange to me because people say that "it travels faster when you're having a good time," but why is it still moving so quickly when I'm surrounded by new responsibilities popping up out of nowhere? I remember someone telling me the other day that when a person asks them how they're doing, they race to say that they're stressed beyond belief, even if that's not true. Could that be what's possibly happening to me?

I look back on first semester and can't even remember the first two months of high school. Nothing rings a bell, nothing at all. It's as if the past has vanished so quickly because I'm focused intently on both the present and where I'm heading one or two years from now. It's like the only thing I've grasped from the past five months of being a high schooler is that time can be both your best friend and your worst enemy.

As of today, there are about 82 days left until the last day of school, including weekends and holidays. The hands on the clock are ticking closer and closer to midnight, yet I'm asking for them to remain just a second more at nine o'clock. I feel like with the future running at me with full speed, I'm in a situation that can only end with me being engulfed by the intricacies of the future.

I've said it before to the people around me, but never did I think that junior year would be difficult because of my own emotions. Every day goes by so quickly, even faster than the day before, that when I finally get a break to sit down and think about where I currently am, I'm haunted by the thought that there's only so much time before college applications and growing up come knocking at my door.

I don't want to grow up so quickly when I can't cherish the time I've lost. I haven't been able to appreciate the people around me and the baby steps I've taken to get this far, so how I can fully understand the value of finally finishing the year? I'm terrified for the future because it's like it's mixing into my present, as if the two are becoming one single entity that only I can find the balance between.

So I sit here in front of my laptop, typing away the sentences that can only partially capture the true maze I have been situated in. The maze walls are covered in clocks with hands moving in all directions, such clocks chiming at the sounds of hitting midnight. And the only direction I can move is forward, where every step I take brings my one step closer to the future. Soon, I'll find myself running as fast as I can toward the end, not knowing where my previous steps were taken.

And if I had the power to slow down time, I would turn myself around in that maze and walk right back to the very beginning, this time not even hesitating at the thought of walking as slowly as I can.