Time is something I have always found to be scary. I’ve never felt as though I have had enough of it. I grew up wondering what the future would be like, wondering if I’d ever get to see it. I’m sat here, in mine and my boyfriend’s room staring at the calendar, knowing that I’ll have to go away again soon. While I’m excited to start up my course again and settle into my new house, the thought of leaving him again scares me. The first time we’d faced so many problems, and I’m scared in case we face them again. I’m scared I’ll be lonely again. I spent so much of my time feeling lonely. Story of my life, really. I’m scared about what I will get to achieve while I’m still here and I’m worried I’m going to look back on the summer and think: ‘why couldn’t have I done more?’. I used to worry each year about going back to school. For a few weeks before going back, I’d have difficulty getting to sleep. I didn’t have any reason to be worried. I could handle the douchebags. The teachers weren’t particularly mean. But it meant that a year had passed. Time had gone by that I could not relive. You don’t get second chances to do things over. From a very young age, I understood this.
I’m writing right now, not to inform you as I would in my usual article. I’m not really trying to entertain. I’m just trying to shift a weight that’s on my chest that will crush me if I let it. I used to have dreams of remaining a young child while all of my friends and classmates grew older around me. I never saw myself age. I didn’t know I was even able to. I could picture futures for everyone else. In my future, I saw nothing. I found it a miracle the day of my prom. Sixteen and still live. Success. I also used to have dreams however of being older than everyone else. I wasn’t aware of me having an adult life, just that no one could recognise me. I had grown up too quickly. That was something I made sure never happened. I made sure I made the best of my childhood and, whilst all the kids my age started drinking and going to parties fairly young, I stuck to what I knew best. I didn’t need that lifestyle. I knew that when I got to eighteen I’d be able to do all of that stuff and not feel guilty about it. Guilt is a very real thing in my life but I’m not worried about guilt right now. I’m worried about time and space. I’m worried I might fall through the gaps.
How does one become unafraid of something as constant and ever-present as time?
Thanks for reading x