The choice between time and life is utterly unbearable


Change tends to be inevitable. 

It is a well-known fact. There always seems to be something coming my way to discombobulate all of the comforts I have found. However, there was always one constant in my life: each time I woke up in the morning, a small spark of joy greeted me. 

That spark of joy was never my hopes and dreams. It was never happiness. It took only the form of simplicity. 

Simple ideas, simple hopes, simple dreams, simple happiness. 

That spark of joy came to me in the form of a child—a young girl. A young girl that helped me see the world in a way that made it all so easy. 

I could sit and laugh with her all day. We would watch the clouds transform into creatures only found in my imagination. We watched them turn into creatures brave enough to face the sunlight that banished them each and every day. 

She would show me how to find the good in people. No one had hurt her yet, and I wanted to protect her regardless of the cost. She believed in the world’s innocence, and, in those moments I spent with her, I did too.

I watched the young girl find joy in the smallest of things. She always managed to find something to look forward to in each day that passed by. Her excitement was contagious and captivating. 

She always looked on the brighter side of life. Everything that ever upset her dissolved from her memory in minutes; she never held a grudge. She took the chance to do anything and everything; she never hesitated. She never gave up on something that seemed too difficult for her to handle. 

I would wake up every morning to that spark of joy filling my soul, giving me a reason to get out of bed. 

But that spark of joy began to escape my mind. 

Life began moving at a speed at which I was unable to keep up with; I believed the young girl would catch up to me eventually, so I left her behind. I tried not to stray too far from her, but life became a running game, and I lost sight of her. I faced the choice of holding onto my previous life and keeping up with time. I chose wrong. 

She believed in the world’s innocence, and, in those moments I spent with her, I did too.”

Without her, clouds have turned into mindless outlines of all that is left of my imagination. Every shape I once saw, every hope I once had—gone. 

Her bright smile no longer lights the path I journey on. I am found lost on many occasions.

I miss the young girl as the path I travel on grows increasingly darker. She is not within my grasp; she is not within my sight. 

I spend every day looking in the mirror, hoping to see her once more, but she is gone. She left only the memories we once made. Memories that are now locked tight in the crevice of my mind.