Talking to time

        Once, I went to the backyard of my house and sat under a tree with a glass of orange juice, and decided to talk to time. It arrived slowly – just as time does – and sat beside me, as if it had (can you imagine!) all the time in the world to waste on me.
        The first thing that I asked was: Why are you wasting yourself on me? It answered that this moment was the right time to spend with me, simple as that. Minutes and hours were reserved for me and they were impossible to take back. Time continues speaking: Believe me, I’m not wasting time on you. In fact, you are the one losing the time that was meant for you. I considered this conversation, ironically, a waste of time if you understand.
        I perceived its words as a reproach, a hard one, as that. It was as if time itself mocked me! While I drained the batteries of my life, time flowed while I drank my delicious orange juice. The liquid in my glass descended like sand in a yellow hourglass. In my opinion, life is a fragment of time between two unknown and dark spaces. We are beings born from nothing and we will disappear just like a cup of glass, emptying.
       I tried to have a serious conversation with time, but it refused my intention and remained silent, while life rushed by on the other side of the street. I watched people move about, each one spending their time in pursuit of their destiny.
     Time continues its mission and wastes itself, it told me. Whether we use time to enjoy life or not, it will always be our companion – a supporting actor with a fixed duration. There is nothing before it and there will be nothing beyond it – this is my conclusion. Time doesn’t stop, even when we waste it staring at ourselves in a mirror. It may sleep beside us, yet it never closes its eyes because it must use itself. We pause our journey, but time keeps moving forward.
       If we waste time on failed projects, time simply moves on with its own. If we work hard to achieve our goals faster, might we save time? No. Time is an illusion, even when it is sitting right in front of us, talking to us like an employee waiting for the moment to go home.
       There is a time to plant and a time to harvest, but is there a time to change our own time? It is ironic that, even though our time belongs to us, we cannot control it. Is there a time to plant and a time to fight, especially to fight against the dictatorship of time?
       In the end, I stood up and told to time that it could leave because I had no more time to waste on it. It seemed unhappy with my attitude and tried to store, as if it wished to be a being of time – to exist for itself. But I found that absurd. Another waste of time.

Photo from: Foto de Kenny Eliason na Unsplash

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