“TIME is an illusion” says Albert Einstein, in the general theory of relativity Einstein equates that time is perceived relative to the object, the forces experienced by the object often dictate the concept of time, there may be universal time, but it moves not in a design that conforms to everything.
I guess sometimes the forces of pain and sadness shape time too, the days etch longer, minutes grow wider and our sense of times grows slower. The dagger of hurt that slowly punctures our soul is felt a thousand times more; this is where a million minutes start becoming real.
I’ve never moved from my previous affection of her, circumstances have changed but I guess you can call this fatal, fatally fallen and never to have really completely moved out. Her life has definitely moved forward, but small moments keep me gazing back to what could have been. Like a walter-mitty moment I sometimes catch myself daydreaming, perhaps too painfully, and with a little embarrassment. But I brush it all aside because even I actively fool myself; the truth just seems to have a way of escaping the wall lies built around our hearts.
So how does someone wait? Why does someone wait? Is it because there is hope, or is it because even if there is no hope, time has slowed down that our hearts are still occupied with the sense of longing that only yearns for that other. Foolishness as often described in books, why bother says common sense, and perhaps other reasonable anecdotes that dictate reason above reason why waiting becomes a mistake.
In the late Gabriel Garcia Marquez novel Love in the time of Cholera, he metaphorically crafts the eternal inner self of his characters. I find this striking in the aspect of waiting, the only reason why time seems to be an arduous task is because we often feel like we don’t have much of it. But while it is true that we are here only briefly in this world, realizations that the moment where that hope of love comes into fruition, makes every other moment before that worth it. Whether this be only years, days, or minutes, our minds and are souls hunger for moments, experiences that burrow deep into our existence and make us gaze through the skies like we’ve lived a thousand lifetimes after.
I guess the reason why one person can wait, is because the other becomes the moment we yearn for. The lifetime we chase after. She becomes my moment, my existence, my minute turned into a million lifetimes only truly visualized through the countless stars.