I know that I'll have to go soon. I just wish I had more time. More time to do the things I've been waiting to do for so long. Things such as getting out of bed in the earliest hours of the morning and just listening to the silence in my house, in my room, in my still sleepy mind. Things such as reading a book, feeling its pages on my fingertips, smelling the sent of the words. Maybe even write a book for myself without having to publish it. Create something that belongs to me, something that could give the time I spent here a meaning, something worth remembering. Things such as climbing the highest mountain that can be found on this planet, so that I could escape everything that reminds me of the time that is passing.
But I assume that in this world there is nothing as fragile, as ephemeral as time. That's what makes it so precious. That's what makes these final moments so valuable.
They're already coming.
I know that my time is coming to an end. How could I think that I could be saved from this? How could I think that I, above all others, would have a different end. Nobody can escape. I'm human, after all, am I not? Is my life not only a scene in this great, significant movie?
They'll be here soon, I can hear them in the hallway.
I wish I could go back in time, or maybe just pause it, right now. It's so intriguing how the only way to stop time is by making this moment infinite. We only exist for so long, time shows no mercy. It'll always remind you of your finite nature, or your pitiful limitedness.
"It's time."
How can they say it in such a calm manner, they make it sound so trivial.
"No need to look at us like that, we know what you are thinking."
And yet you show no compassion.
"It's time. But don't worry, it will all start again."
So what is the meaning of my time if it can be replaced? I don't want to start again, I want to stay right here in this moment.
"It won't hurt. See you next time. We'll just have to press reset."