I think time is nothing but an indication of what we’re missing. I don’t think it’s a marker of how much longer we have in life, or a timer of how much time we have left to achieve and reach something. I think time only really matters when you have things in life that make that time valuable. It matters when you have that one or few things that make life more than just a road to an inevitable death. It’s hard to believe I could even believe that myself when that thing I valued most in life has come to end. But this isn’t just about time, there’s a point in time where everyone’s faced with loneliness, when there’s no shoulder to lean on or face to recognize as a safe space. When you look around and realize it’s you versus the world and you versus time. These two things always come hand in hand, what’s there to do with time if you have nobody to spend it with, or things to fulfill. I hate being alone, it sucks when I lose the person and thing that fulfilled my time, that gave 9:00 o’clock a purpose:“movie night”, that gave 5:00 an excitement: a facetime call, that gave Saturdays and Sundays a new meaning: our time. Becoming just ordinary times with no specific value to me, and in truth it sucks. It sucks to remember, to wake up each day, 7:00am with no good morning. To sleep without a goodnight. To not receive a good luck on my important days, to not hear a good job when I achieve. Some moments time goes by so slowly it’s like living in slow motion, I check the time so often hoping the next hour flies by so I’m closer to when I can clock out. Just to repeat the same hopes and habits. But what I finally realized is that it’s not that I don’t have anything valuable in life to make that time fly, or to give it value. It’s the fact that I’m not okay with being alone, I hate realizing there’s no one there with me, to see what I see or to do things with. And I hate this so much because I’ve only ever been around somebody for the past few years. I’m overly used to the feeling of having a familiar face. I see something funny and my first instinct is to want to show them. I see a picture and I automatically lose the spark in whatever made my day good. Everything that once had a purpose leaves a lingering reminder of what I once had. And although I hate this huge void, I know it’s what I needed. I can’t point out the last time it was that I had this much self awareness. I have the time it takes to sit down with myself and realize that I hardly did anything for myself. And when I did, I would rather have not if that time could go elsewhere. I found me time; a waste of time, and committed my time to something that I believed needed it more. I can actually see myself as somebody who has meaning behind just words of affirmation. I can find value in myself, not find it because I have value in somebody’s life. I feel alone, but I feel myself becoming more connected with who I am. I think I forgot what I stood for, and as I remember it slowly and as it all comes back, I’m glad I’m alone.