The Secret of Time

Not long ago, I realized that there was another force at work on me regarding my general sense of post-childhood depression.  In earlier posts, I've explored some of the concepts regarding how it seems I've come to this position, but this is something completely new.  Only today did I even realize what it was in a way that could be put into words.

Simply put, there is a secret truth to time that is hidden from people when they are still children.  Children know that they'll grow up, get old, and eventually die, but it's not something that really gets processed.  It's just random fluff knowledge like knowing the names of different kinds of apples.  It's information and it is there but it doesn't really impact one's life.

The secret of course is the realization that time is truly limited.  It runs out.  By the time someone gets to their early 20s, they have used between a quarter and a third of their likely time on Earth already.  That's a big portion.  That's a scary portion.  I can remember back to around 5th or 6th grade where I had a mini-realization that I would eventually die.  Somehow, I managed to push this from my mind but it happened during story time after lunch one day.  When it hit that "I", as a concept, would eventually cease to exist at some point, I was completely paralyzed.  It lasted for about a minute.  That was the first time I'd really discovered the fact that time is limited, but it didn't really bind.  It was just a five minute eighth-life crisis similar to what I suppose I am going through in my quarter-life one except in terms of duration.

Now, the problem is primarily that nothing I seem to do or don't do but could perceivably do really seems worth it now that it is so clear time is limited.  That must be a major part of the discontent I've felt over the last year.  I do the same thing every day, and I fear that I will quickly find myself on the exiting end of youth entirely having wasted it.  I won't have done any of the things that people my age supposedly do, done things that mattered, etc.  I'll be completely unable to return and still marching forward toward eventual expiration.  THAT is depressing.

Perhaps now that I realize what it is I'm up against, there is a chance that I can come to terms with it and proceed.  After all, it's a bit ironic that the very fear of not using one's limited time wisely causes a person to not do anything at all.  Cosmic irony rears its head once again.