My little brother is a conspiracy theorist, and his insane, slightly convincing theories often wander their way onto my plate, and I stare at my ceiling at night thinking of how non-existent time is. And don’t even get me started on the aliens..
Time is different for everyone, and the older I get the more I realize this, as it rushes past me like a hurricane. For me, time is going so fast that I can’t even hang on most days. But for some people, people from my past especially, have this strange deal worked out with time where they sit and dwell in every previous minute of the present.
I know time isn’t real and all, but why in the world would spend it thinking about how great (or horrible) things used to be? They’ll tell themselves things like, “I remember how happy I used to be”. Or “I remember the way my life used to be”. Or “I remember how much fun we used to have together”. These people think these thoughts as they mope in their room with the lights off, full of wallowed-out misery, having absolutely zero fun because they’re always alone, and always the victim.
NEWSFLASH: You aren’t the victim of this story, so carefully tuck that card back into your pocket, darling.
Because you’re in control of your own life. Of your own timing. You get to choose your happiness, the way you live, and the amount of fun you allow yourself to have. You get to decide where you want to go, who you want to talk to, and how you want to change the world in your own unique way. Isn’t that wonderful?
But unfortunately, people get too caught up in their own sucky mindset to take the reigns.
I decided a few years ago that I’m in charge. I’m on my own schedule. I’ll stay if I want to, I’ll leave if I feel like it. I’ll pick up the phone occasionally, I’ll send it to voicemail if I’m not in the mood. I’ll eat five stacks of pancakes with heaps of syrup if I want, or sometimes I’ll eat nothing.
And most importantly, I’ll write what I want. Because it matters to me. This is my story, and I get to decide my own plot, and I refuse to put the pen down because someone keeps re-reading old, dusty chapters.
Never let anyone take the pen out of your hands, and take your time. It’s yours for a reason after all.