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i fell in love with time.
If you ask me what my first love was, I will say, time; unrequited. I fell in love with time and how it doesn't stay. Indefinite. Infinite. Never ending. Never staying. It makes me cry, it makes me smile, it makes me remember I am living a life of lie, it makes me regret and shoulder grief too. Time; so alive yet feels so dead.
Love is meant to stay alive. That's how love is supposed to be I think; alive even after you are not. How you can't touch it. The only way possible is to stare as the sand falls in the hourglass. How your parents have wrinkles and salt & pepper hair, so different from childhood photos. Grown up, aged and old. How you don't feel the time. Every single thing in your house aged with scratches and fading colour, cracks in the tiles and paint leaving the walls, dust settled on ceiling fans and corners with spider webs to decorate their emptiness. How every scar on my body has a story to tell. How every moment you are living will become a memory the another. How every person you spend time with will end up taken away by it.
I find comfort in time like two lovers embraced; that cozy and safe feeling that old things often give. Time is old. And old things have a certain remembrance sticking out from their old smell. The way old books smell. The way I still have my old clothes from when I was three years old and wore them every second day till I was five cause they were my favourite. The way I still love that feeling of nostalgia everytime I lay my head in Ma's lap; tears that I've kept come rushing out and I cry like I'm a kid again; weeping in her lap. Her hand gently tapping my head; a lullaby I had long forgotten. Everytime I hold Papa's hand while crossing the road, my five fingers still wrap around his one finger.
Time makes me hate it but it also taught me to forgive. I fell in love with time as it passes by slowly yet so fast you don't know it. I pray there won't be a moment I feel it has stopped.
© k. k.
Love is meant to stay alive. That's how love is supposed to be I think; alive even after you are not. How you can't touch it. The only way possible is to stare as the sand falls in the hourglass. How your parents have wrinkles and salt & pepper hair, so different from childhood photos. Grown up, aged and old. How you don't feel the time. Every single thing in your house aged with scratches and fading colour, cracks in the tiles and paint leaving the walls, dust settled on ceiling fans and corners with spider webs to decorate their emptiness. How every scar on my body has a story to tell. How every moment you are living will become a memory the another. How every person you spend time with will end up taken away by it.
I find comfort in time like two lovers embraced; that cozy and safe feeling that old things often give. Time is old. And old things have a certain remembrance sticking out from their old smell. The way old books smell. The way I still have my old clothes from when I was three years old and wore them every second day till I was five cause they were my favourite. The way I still love that feeling of nostalgia everytime I lay my head in Ma's lap; tears that I've kept come rushing out and I cry like I'm a kid again; weeping in her lap. Her hand gently tapping my head; a lullaby I had long forgotten. Everytime I hold Papa's hand while crossing the road, my five fingers still wrap around his one finger.
Time makes me hate it but it also taught me to forgive. I fell in love with time as it passes by slowly yet so fast you don't know it. I pray there won't be a moment I feel it has stopped.
© k. k.
