Floating

Time does not cure anything. Simply, it is a cloak that deceives us. It is a placebo that leads us to think, to believe, to feel that we are well, when in fact we are anything but. We think time has helped us be better, grow better. But no, time is a magician, an illusionist. When time itself reveals to us--transports us back in time whilst staying and being in the present--that we have not changed an inch, an iota; we weep, we grieve for "all the time lost".

Time and again (pun definitely intended) we are faced by the harsh reality of the present and the indifference and impossibility of the past...and the uncertainty and wickedness of the future. We are stuck, floating floating and floating between the waves of past, present and future. Getting a whiff, sip, and taste of the past, present and future but not committing entirely to one. We give each--the past, present and future--a taste, a glimpse, a whiff of our whole being. A version of us. Little truths that if taken alone mean nothing, but if collected will mean a lot. We are afraid to choose one, for in choosing we not only opt to give our whole self but we gamble, we risk. We give up the familiarity we gained from floating from one to the other for something uncertain but promises to be something better.

Will we let these promises lure us into stopping and come down from our joyous, relaxed and comfortable floating? Or will we be firm in maintaining that floating is best thing for us, that we have once in our life stopped floating but it almost caused us not to be able to fly again?

We are unstoppable forces floating from the past, present and future waiting to encounter our own immovable objects to stop our fancy flight and make us realize that 'hey, floating is not the best/only thing we can do.'



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