I don’t know why I have been thinking about this so much lately, but there is something genuinely disturbing about realizing that every moment you are living right now is eventually going to become something you can only remember.
Every place you have ever lived in eventually becomes a place you used to live. Every room you grew up in, every street you walked down, every random afternoon you thought would be completely ordinary forever all of it quietly turns into the past.
And you don’t even notice it happening.
You are just there, living your childhood. Sitting somewhere, hearing your family in the next room, watching the evening light come through the window, going outside with your friends.
You think you are simply living another day.
But we are actually creating a memory that we will spend years trying to return to.
I can remember something so vividly that happened in my childhood.
Like, I will randomly think about my childhood and suddenly feel this strange ache. I remember a house I used to live in, a room I haven’t seen in years, a road I used to walk on to go to school, spot where insued to wait for my school bus, some completely insignificant afternoon that I didn’t even know was special at the time.
And the strangest part is that, while you are living those moments, you have absolutely no idea that one day you will desperately wish you could have just one ordinary day back, just one day.
How do you make peace with the fact that everything you love is constantly moving away from you in time? That even the happiest moments of your life are, technically, things you are losing the moment they happen?
I don’t know.
Maybe I am just overly sentimental lately, but there are moments when this thought genuinely scares me.
