If time wasn’t real, would I feel less rushed to catch up with life?
Without my trial and tribulations, my career, my daily monotonous drive to fulfill my days; time wouldn’t be there to tell me I’m late.
Why am I feeling this way?
Physical time is the continuous passage of existence in which events pass from a state of potentiality in the future, through the present and finally entering the finality of the pass.
. I have no will or reason to continue on. Let time do its job.
. I think I have derived everything I know from my childhood events. Every moment and memory I needed to taste to help me grow into someone worth knowing.
What if one day I ran into one of you and I asked you, “Are you are peace in your present?” What would you say to me? A complete stranger. Would you be honest knowing the fact that I will never see you again, or would you not say a word at all?
If I asked myself that same question, would I even validate that feeling into my soul’s dictionary? I don’t I would. That could always change over the years. I am in the middle of unhappiness.
Above all time is no friend of mine. Nevertheless, time continues without a doubt.