When I think back on my life, it feels like the most exciting things happened in a matter of seconds. When I look back and remember the moments where my heart was, for one reason or another, beating like a stampede, I’m almost certain that everything occurred faster than I could snap my fingers.
Just like that.
And that makes me so fucking sad. Because the times I’m talking about are some of the happiest I’ve ever known. They’re the times that made me feel brighter than the sun and high as the sky. I guess there’s comfort in that happiness. I smile when I remember those times. Sometimes my eyes even start to well up. But there’s an undeniable part of me that wants more, that wishes it all could have lasted longer, if only for a few more sweet seconds.
What I’m saying is that life is fleeting. And that fact makes me gaze out the window at the snow and feel a small part of my soul grow weak.
But as much as it makes me sad, it scares me even more.
Because I can almost explain away the speed of those happy, exciting moments. Adrenaline and ignorance make time evaporate like a water droplet on a red-hot pan.
But it isn’t just those moments of intense joy and happiness that disappear so quickly. It’s not only the small parts.
The big parts are evaporating, too. Not just pages, but chapters.
There are people I knew for years. I don’t know who they are anymore. There are places that used to be so familiar to me that I could draw them by heart. They’re foreign now.
It seems to have happened overnight.
Just like that.
That’s tough to live with. Even though I know I can’t do a damn thing about it, I think about it all the time. There is so much that I used to know that I’ve forgotten. There is so much in my life that I used to love that’s gone.
It scares me because, looking at my life now, I wonder if the same will happen. Will the chapters I’m writing now become old and tattered, used to the point of loss? Will the people I love and the places I know now become silhouettes stuck behind the barriers of my memory?
I don’t know. Maybe. Maybe not.
Some moments live on through the stories I tell and the memories I refuse to let go of. Some things will always be with me. And in that, too, there’s comfort. I guess the only thing I can do is tell those stories and reconstruct those memories. I guess that, through me, those moments can either live on or die.
So maybe, through my head, through my soul and through my fingers, those pages of beautiful poetry and prose can be preserved until the end of time.
Maybe, just maybe, life doesn’t have to be so fleeting.