Time is tricky.
It ticks and ticks and fuckin’ ticks.
When you actually look at a clock, it’s quite nerve-wracking.
Like, What the hell? How do I stop this?
When my father died, one of the first things Felix said to me was, “Know that life goes on.”
Random thing to hear, but it stuck with me.
Life does go on.
Dad died over 4 years ago. Where did the time go?
It’s gone! It fuckin’ moves forward without my consent!
Hair falls and grays.
Body morphs into shapes that don’t fit jeans and shirts.
Time is relentless.
The question nagging me day in and day out is: am I doing what I’m here for?
If time is swiftly trekking us forward, am I using this time intentionally?
I think of Mexico City and the train riders who wait under canvas tents, listening for a locomotive horn. They keep their shoes on and their backpacks zipped. When the freight train starts to pull out, they jump on and ride it hoping to survive to the final destination: America. Use to be that falling asleep and slipping off was the most dangerous part of it, now it’s gangs and rapists and thieves.
I think of the train of life and whether I’m falling asleep, soon to fall off.
What about my family and friends?
Now, right now, the most important question still remains:
“What is it you plan to do with your one wild, (fleeting) and precious life?”