I want so desperately and naively to understand in every sense of the word, the world, not just myself or the enormous happenstance of my life and how it has chanced to unfold –- I want to understand thoroughly what makes the thing that ultimately dictates our life so important -- why even though I have cloistered myself, time seems to still pass so quickly despite my desperate attempts to possess it, and most of the time, arrest it.
It's the fifth day of the second month of the year and it still feels like the ninth month of the year before. Not even only in this tangible "wow-it's-50-degrees-outside" sense, but even in the methaphorical sense where a big winter is coming and I, too, am ready to hibernate in hopes that such act would slow down the clock.
But it doesn't. And soon I'll be late for class.