Time Is A Criminal

Time. It’s a strange thing, isn’t it? It’s always running away, too fast. And then it chases us, and no matter how fast we run, it will always catch up. It steals from us. It slowly kills us. Maybe that’s why it’s running away, because what it does is wrong. It’s running from the law, the biggest criminal mastermind we’ve ever known, always playing tricks on us, creeping by us, distracting us with smiles and pain, wastes of time and memories.

Sometimes, I stop and realize…Whoa. I’m fifteen. It feels like just yesterday, I was thirteen. It feels like not too long ago, I was a crazy middle school girl. I still remember posing with my sister for pictures in our denim jumpers on the first day of kindergarten or first grade; I can’t remember what year exactly. I remember how we put up our umbrellas, even though it wasn’t raining.

Now, ten years have gone by since that day. Where did those years go? Why did they go by so fast? Why doesn’t time ever slow down? Why does it just keep going faster and faster, until years will feel like a mere months, weeks turn into days, days turn into minutes. Everything will flash by so fast, that I won’t even get a chance to look around and enjoy it. I can hear time chasing me, the clock ticking like footsteps. I woke up this morning, and I realized that the clock sitting on my roll top desk, the one I had cut, shaped, put together and painted in my seventh grade shop class, had stopped sometime this morning. It was stuck back sometime before six. Or had it stopped last night? Or yesterday morning? Or the night before that? I never even bother to look at that clock, really. I always forget that it has a purpose other than the stack of letters and books on top of it, the important things I shouldn’t lose that are stored inside of it.

I didn’t even bother to tell my mom that the battery needed to be changed. I don’t need time following me everywhere I go. I don’t need to hear those soft, repetitious footsteps when I’m trying to write or read, or trying to fall asleep.

But, just recently, something reminded me of how quickly time is flying by me. Only about seven days ago, 2O12 began, a new year. But…

Where did 2O11 go?

I remember the first day of 2O11 like it was yesterday. I spent it as sick as a victim of food poisoning, ass barely leaving the toilet, face in a bucket. Great way to start the year, right? Including that horrible experience, many, many, things happened in 2O11. Where to begin?

I turned fifteen and realized it’s nothing like Taylor Swift says it is. My taste in music changed. I wrote twenty songs and a few poems here and there. I started this blog. I got better and better at guitar, month by month. I made new friends. I lost some friends. I lost my trust in some people. I dyed my hair golden blonde. I started wearing eyeliner every day for months. My naivety slowly faded away, experience by experience. Alexandria lost her virginity to a guy she barely knew. Symphony went out with some guy who turned out to be bisexual and just started ignoring her instead of breaking up with her. I watched Oliver and Yuuki slowly drift apart, drift together again, and I watched him fall in love with Cassidy and leave Yuuki behind.

I took some chances. I made a lot of dumb mistakes that seemed normal at the time. I lived the whole year without romance; without my first boyfriend or my first kiss, and I have a feeling this year might be the same, at the rate it’s going now. But, hell, it’s only the seventh day out of three hundred and sixty-five! I need to stop overreacting and assuming so much. That should’ve been one of my resolutions. I guess I could add it to the list now.

In 2O11, I met people who changed my life, like Jordan. He randomly walked into my world, and from the very first time I saw him, I knew I would be falling in love momentarily. I remember how ecstatic I was when he talked to me for the first time. But, I never would’ve suspected being so close to the fairytale, having him as a friend, just a few words away from a happy ending or a tragedy. Scary, isn’t it?

2O11 was an important year in my life. It flew by so fast. Or did it? Did it just seem that way because it’s over?

I hope that 2O12 will be a year of living in the moment and not even stopping to think about time. Time should be locked up forever. I just want to stand in one of those perfect settings, those too-good-to-be-true moments and see time creeping around in the background, reminding me that nothing good lasts forever. I want to pull out a gun and point it right at that criminal and cry it out, "FREEZE." I want to freeze time. I want to be stuck in a perfect moment, because I’m sick of the predictable sad story my life is becoming.