It Feels Real as it Slips

I remember, about a week after he left, I was heading to a cafe in Cambridge and I saw this written on the sidewalk, alone with no context or surrounding graffiti.  It encompassed the entirety of my emotional experience at that moment.  And as I look forward in my life, and see nothing and everything, I gain no happiness.  The delusion of control I had over my life vanished, and once again I saw myself trying to swim against the current.  Time, irreversible, drives forward.  Sometimes it gently nurtures you as you grow, other times it rips you to pieces, and worst it sometimes slowly eats you alive.  I can not seem to bring my perception back to the positive view of time.  Instead, each second seems like 80 years, my body losing all attractiveness with each mark, my mind losing its sharpness with each attempt at using it.  

Why I have become so deeply affected even I don't understand.  But it feels so real as it slips.  It feels so so real as it slips.