I remember a line from somewhere that goes, “I’m closer to the end than the beginning”, and I know I am. The end seemed so far away. Now I can see it. At least that’s what I think is the end up there. Time seems to stretch and contract more violently now. I’ve lost so much of it lately. So much is left behind. It’s left behind or it’s ripped from my grasp. There so much passing me by. I try to grab on to something and it’s snatched away in seconds, and while I’m watching it fade into the distance more comes flying by. That focus point where the future briefly becomes the moment and it goes zooming off into the past. If I focus on what’s in front of me I can slow it down a little, but when I look out the window, I’m on a runaway train.