I can literally feel that I am getting older and older with each passing day. Ever single passing minute is a minute gone. We cannot stop time; try as we might, we have not the slightest power to prevent this uncontrollable, uncontainable resource from slipping away from us. Like waves as they recede, having kissed the shore with their gentle motions, leaving behind fragments of graveled memories and sweeping away the fine traces of sandy bygones. The waves keep coming, crashing. Again and again and again, ceaseless in their action, repeatedly depositing the new and eroding the old.

Time and tide waits for no man. Truly, I could not have said it any better. Time is slipping through my fingers as I type this, oozing onto the keyboard and into the universe. Gone forever. I imagine time flowing like water through the faucet, draining into the sinks of our lives and then through the sinkholes leading to the dark, bottomless pits of unrecoverable pasts.

In the rosy garden of time, there grows this beautiful blossom of youth. And I am losing my youth, I can feel it. It simply withers away, crumbling and disintegrating into a pile of shriveled vestiges. I am at the cusp of my youth, brimming with energy and ambition, but it is not going to last forever. Fast approaching the threshold of my twenties, I am losing it. I am losing the most precious innate gift that I have, and there is nothing I can do about it. Youth and the vibrancy it brings are the only advantages one can indulge in when one has nothing else to offer.

I know it is absurd thinking about this at such a point in my life. But for the first time ever, I can feel it in my veins, in my soul, in my entire being. I am not going to be young forever. And it does scare me. Not because I fear ageing or death, but the looming truth that once these next few years pass, they would have passed for good. Just like the previous few years have. They are not coming back. I am not going to get the chance to be sixteen, or fifteen, or fourteen ever again.

I am not living regrets, merely hesitations.

I can literally feel that I am getting older and older with each passing day. Ever single passing minute is a minute gone. We cannot stop time; try as we might, we have not the slightest power to prevent this uncontrollable, uncontainable resource from slipping away from us. Like waves as they recede, having kissed the shore with their gentle motions, leaving behind fragments of graveled memories and sweeping away the fine traces of sandy bygones. The waves keep coming, crashing. Again and again and again, ceaseless in their action, repeatedly depositing the new and eroding the old.

Time and tide waits for no man. Truly, I could not have said it any better. Time is slipping through my fingers as I type this, oozing onto the keyboard and into the universe. Gone forever. I imagine time flowing like water through the faucet, draining into the sinks of our lives and then through the sinkholes leading to the dark, bottomless pits of unrecoverable pasts.

In the rosy garden of time, there grows this beautiful blossom of youth. And I am losing my youth, I can feel it. It simply withers away, crumbling and disintegrating into a pile of shriveled vestiges. I am at the cusp of my youth, brimming with energy and ambition, but it is not going to last forever. Fast approaching the threshold of my twenties, I am losing it. I am losing the most precious innate gift that I have, and there is nothing I can do about it. Youth and the vibrancy it brings are the only advantages one can indulge in when one has nothing else to offer.

I know it is absurd thinking about this at such a point in my life. But for the first time ever, I can feel it in my veins, in my soul, in my entire being. I am not going to be young forever. And it does scare me. Not because I fear ageing or death, but the looming truth that once these next few years pass, they would have passed for good. Just like the previous few years have. They are not coming back. I am not going to get the chance to be sixteen, or fifteen, or fourteen ever again.

I am not living regrets, merely hesitations.