It's hard to keep pace with time.
Sometimes, so swiftly, it races to the finish line. . a finish line that is yet to be known. And just when you're about to feel the rush inside, out of vagueness, it suddenly slooooowwsss doooooowwwn like you've never felt it slow down before.
Moreover, it slows down just when you want things to speed up.

As of now, I really don't want to hurry up neither wish for a
tortoiselike moment to linger.
Time begins makin sense to me after I glimpse back on it because that's when I start to question, ponder, worry, cry, or laugh and grieve, or simply start to understand. Then somewhere, somehow, something pops along behind memories. . something that inflicts the feelings, most of which is "pain". . .
the ever-so-endless wishful thinking - -
"IF ONLY I COULD TURN BACK TIME. . . "


TIME----
i find it wonderful - - - crazy beautiful - - and something truthful - - a painful and honest proof to questions like "why?".