For some reason I find time somewhat frightening. Mainly because so often, a long time ago feels very recent. Even my childhood feels like it wasn’t too far back. Sometimes I’m tricked into thinking I’ve been around for only a few years. Maybe my mind fucks up sometimes. Sometimes I think of time as an omnipresent monster or creature eating moment that’s been. Time has been so strange to me, and yet I’m pretty certain it doesn’t exist, not truly at least.
It’s like how order doesn’t truly exist, time is just something we impose or layer upon the world int order to make use of our environment so that we may surive or thrive. It doesn’t actually exist. Are the numbers we ascribe really in objective existence? No. Do a.m. and p.m. exist outside our structuring? No. Also it’s really weird how time tends to be different not just in different parts of the world, but also different parts of the cosmos outside our world.
What we call time is a progression of events, same as order, and yet it feels so terrifyingly all-consuming.