Time didn't solve anything, at least, for me. Instead, everything became somber and jaded as time passed by. Several years ago, I always told myself that it was okay, tomorrow will be a good day too.
"It’s okay. You just have to be patient. Time will come when happiness exists within again."
But no, I was wrong. Time didn't solve anything for me. As time flew, my mental health worsened. I got farther from being okay. I was trapped in a cage where joy and solace were restrained. I was tangled in a never-ending cycle of hopelessness and misery.
Despite my efforts to believe in the healing power of time, each passing day only served to accentuate the wounds within me. Time became a relentless reminder of all that I had lost, a cruel echo of unfulfilled promises and shattered dreams. The ticking of the clock felt like a taunt, counting down the moments wasted in a futile search for solace. It was a painful realization that time, far from being a savior, had become a silent accomplice to my anguish, leaving me adrift in a sea of unresolved pain and unanswered questions.
It was as if time had become a prison, trapping me in a reality where the passage of days only served to deepen the void within me.
I watched as the world moved on, leaving me stranded in a sea of unspoken words and lost opportunities. Time, once a friend, now felt like a relentless battle, stealing moments that I could never reclaim.
And so, I stood at the crossroads of what was and what could have been, a silent witness to the passage of time that had left me behind. In the quiet of my solitude, I searched for a glimmer of solace, a flicker of light in the darkness that time had woven around me.
