When I started collegiate studies, I would stay up until 2 o’clock in the morning working on essays and discussions. Even a little before that, I would stay up late working on blog posts and writing stories. As that went on, I started getting to sleep earlier and earlier. It went on that way for a long time, because time simply moves on without you. It doesn’t really care if you feel like staying up late. No, just your old, withered bones plopping down in a chair is enough. Eventually, your bones tell you how old you are getting with arthritic impunity.
I get up a lot earlier now. Sometimes its five o’clock in the morning. Sometimes it’s 7 o’clock, but it’s always early. Then, around 8 o’clock every night, I feel like a great many cement blocks have been laid on my spirit. With such suddenness, I start to fall into the void slowly but surely. It is at this point I have fallen prey to the aggression of time’s infinite wisdom. And it just moves too quickly.
One day, I will wake from slumber like Rip Van Winkle and stumble into town.
