Almost every single person has more than once wished they could turn back the clock. Back a year, a week, a handful of days, or even just a few seconds.
Time is an unforgiving concept that ticks by, unstoppable by any force. We are defined by it, raised by it, and live our lives by its fleeting face. Like a drip that never stops, our hearts beat along its rhythm.
At present, human beings can’t change time. Life would be so much different and more harmonious if we could reverse the clock and relive the world through day-old lenses.
That is if I had known to try repeating the same ten seconds over.
If I had known, I would have gotten into my car five minutes earlier so the deer could cross the street safely instead of landing on the grill of my car. I would still have a car to call my own truly, and Mom and Dad would have spent less money that year.
If only I had known, perhaps I would have spent less time fantasizing about a stupid online purchase and more on the sketchy URL codes posted on the website. To save myself the time and anxiety of knowing my money was stolen so that I could take advantage of my last few days of winter break.
If I had stuck to my coworker’s side that night, my jitters could still be justified as cold shivers rather than conscious watching for danger.
There have been late nights spent coiled into fuzzy blankets that I’ll blink awake in thought, unable to shut my mind off. Almost like it’s dressing me in fake humility as I wished I’d done things so differently.
Time is a tease, always taunting us with the knowledge of our prior mistakes and stringing along regret like snow on a tree. We become unbalanced by the weight of ice and topple while our courage and confidence shatter across the floor.
To be frozen with fear is almost more humanly instinctive than to fly with feet ablaze and courage alight.
Staring at a broken mirror on the ground, suddenly, I don’t notice the shards of glass, but rather my remorse reflected across its fractured surface.
I struggle, locked away in the depths of my mind, unable to pick up the mirror. My face riddles my spine and is stricken with fear, the simple notion of making the mistake in the first place cuts like a knife.
My mistakes are what prevent me from trying my hardest. To what point can I push and shove before the dangers of falling off the edge restrain my movements?
To be frozen with fear is almost more humanly instinctive than to fly with feet ablaze and courage alight. I would rather be cold and prepared for the worst than be aflame and act upon the first thought that comes to mind.
If only I had known, there would still be time, yet it slips through my fingers like sand. Time will not wait for my knowledge, but would rather act outside the bounds of my comfort. I can’t control what I don’t know and wish for certain I will be ready for things just outside my field of sight.
In forgiveness, I can move on. I can pick up the pieces and start back at square one. My reflection will be the same, no matter the surface.
Time won’t forgive, so I have to do that for myself.
But by now, I know that time has taught me to expect the unknown.
