Time Was Created By Humans, but so Was Heartbreak

The past, present and future seem to get along very well. The past being 5:05 PM, the present 5:06 PM, and the future 5:07 PM. A cycle, a mere projection of what humans stand for: Control. I do not know exactly if the making of time was the primitive example of how we like to control everything around us, but it is in fact one of the biggest amenities that now plagues our lives; or perhaps not plagues, but tangos with us, as we continue to learn how to live, and how to accept.

TIME it is constant, and anything with a constant speed has no acceleration. Time passes like flowing water; like light, it can not be stopped. I suppose that is the biggest victory of time, it keeps going. We are not forced to step on the same ground as five minutes ago, and we are not forced to ever relay the feelings of February 4, 2018.

It was one the most educational yet frustrating days of my life. I wanted to cry, but I could not—perhaps I should say I would not. Tears, the water that flows down some people's faces, have always been for the weak. For those who cannot cope or forget, for those who get hurt too easily. Here I was; my eyes felt watery and my face turned red. I had been dumped without being asked out. I laid on the ground, trying to control myself; I began a 1,000 piece puzzle and watched the Super Bowl, but I felt separated, felt inanimate. I felt and heard my heart pump, but it was only a physical matter. My heart ached and I could not stop it.

For days, weeks, months (Exactly six months) I felt odd, displaced, subtracted, and dare I say it, depressed. How could I, I, I gave so much value and power to another human being... I had nothing attached to him other than memories and feelings, but it hurt so much. The lies, and illusions that were fed to me, and I believed them. I accepted every word that came out of his mouth without a question, without a doubt. It was the first and the last.

I suppose the answers to my crying, and the words that were suppose to heal me where mostly about time. "Time heals," I was told. "Time will tell... don't worry, you will be over it in no time." It was meant to be helpful; it only killed me a little more inside. How come this "time" has so much power; why did it have so much power over me at the time? Why was it up to time to heal me? How could time help me? Was it not created by another pitiful human?

Time didn't exist at my lowest point in my life (as of right now). Some days I felt that time slowed down, and there were other days that I wish I could slow down time. It played with me, it danced with me, it moved me however it wanted. The first month was terrible. I hated everything and everyone. The second month came with a few happy days (Oh how I wish I could stay in those!) and as the months progressed, time seemed to become my friend. Then... there were those days. Where I wished I had never met time. Time could disappear, and I could not care less.

Time was an opponent at the time, but then... it went away. The pain, the tears, and the constant dread and pity. I saw time in a different light. Time did not heal me, but it helped me heal myself. I hated time because I could not control it, and that is all I wanted to do: Control something, because I felt out of control. What I did not realize was that control was in my hands the entire time, I decided when I was okay, I decided to choose enough, it was not time. Time gave my the opportunity and restful days to count until I got to that point of... calm, peace, and happiness once more. It provided me with a calculation of the days, hours, months it took me, so I could learn in the future from my mistakes.

Time was created by humans, but so was heartbreak.