Weeks have started to feel different lately. When I was younger, I would groan about how slow the week goes, and how many more years I would have to deal with the boring monotony of the same routine over and over again. Now, they disappear before I even realise it. I’ll look up, and it’s Friday, and I’ll proceed to panic over how little I’ve done and wonder what even happened in all the days in between- I can barely remember what I’ve done daily.
Maybe it’s because life is so full. School, friends, work, volunteering, hobbies, studying- there’s always something on. And packed days blur together- or maybe the Earth’s spinning faster…
Or maybe it’s because I’m changing, growing older, more aware of how temporary things can feel. An endless year has turned into a marathon- and you want to hold onto late-night conversations, dumb inside jokes, even the stressful days- just a little bit tighter.
Maybe it’s because another one of my friends just graduated and I thought, “When did four years till graduation turn into a year and two months until Year 12?”
No one knows whether time will slow down again. Perhaps it isn’t supposed to. Maybe learning to notice the moments while they’re happening, instead of missing them when they’re gone, is the trick we’re all looking for.
Signing off…
