Departed infinity.

Time scares me. It is becoming a seemingly incurable, daunting, triggering cause for anxiety in my life. There are so many places I wish to travel, so many sights I long to see. There are so many foods that I would like to sample and savor. There are so many sounds that I would love to hear: waves crashing in the surf or a newborn child inhaling his first breath of life. There are so many people that I desire to become acquainted with. Numerous, extraordinary occasions have already been achieved during my short dwelling in this world, but I am burdened with the worry that I will not have enough, or that too much will be regretted.

My great Aunt died last night. She lived in the same general geographical area for her entire existence. She never married. She never had children. She died alone.

She ran out of time.

I fear that life speeds past with a velocity too powerful. Lovely moments are gone too soon. I fear that too much time is wasted in accomplishing mundane tasks and lounging in useless monotony. I fear that I will not live to participate in certain experiences, and that withstanding, lasting memories will fall short in being created.

But rather than being dominated with trepidation, I am going to make an effort to cherish my time, and sincerely make it matter.


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