Runaway Train

Eight days later. Plan, hope, anticipate, and now it is eight days later. How does time pass so quickly sometimes and stand still others? How does life seem so wonderful, enjoyable, utterly relaxing some moments and so completely out of control others?

If I knew the answers to these questions, or any questions, I would not be in the state I am now. I expect too much. I deliver too little. I have spent myself life looking forward and backward all at the same time, and now twenty five years have passed in a blink.

The cycle is simple and yet amazing all at the same time. From the beginning of a new semester in school, to planning for a new season, to specific moments in a relationship, the cycle is always the same. Time slows almost to a stop, consumed by the excitement and anticipation of the promise contained within. Time is spent, effort put in, and then in a flash just as time almost stalls, the moment is here and gone and the emptiness of a pure vacuum is left.

Days have moved to weeks, weeks to months, and months to years without my noticing and the person I see in the mirror now is not me. The promise of a lifetime full of happiness, joy, meaning, success, however defined, has passed by.

I have always loved train. If a love for trains is genetic then I got mine from my mother. This train is moving way too fast now. Too fast to catch. Too fast to jump on board.

Thank you again for getting this far with me.