temporary

Sometimes I wish my eyes were cameras, constantly filming the world around me. Then I’d be able to go back to moments, revisit things I would have most certainly forgotten otherwise. I’ve always admired the ways people are able to capture life through pictures and video, the people that have this gift, skill, talent. When I try, it never seems right. It feels too different from the way I see the world in that moment.

It doesn’t capture the ways my eyes linger on open windows, lights or fallen leaves tumbling through the wind. It doesn’t capture the desperation I feel when looking through the surroundings, the hunger to soak up the fleeting moment, as though I’ll never see the world the same way again.

I won’t, really, ever see it the same way again. Unlike a video, the way my brain processes my surroundings is unique to the moment. Nothing will ever happen exactly the same way twice. Something will always be different, whether it’s the song playing through my earbuds, the time, or the length of my nails. Our fleeting moments are entirely unique and entirely unreproducible.

There’s beauty in that, certainly. But I also kind of hate it. I’m the kind of person to rewatch movies, reread books, re-listen to songs, and re-immerse myself in daydreams until I get sick of them. I wish I could do it with some moments of my life too.

I’m absolutely more scared of life than death. I’m scared of losing life, whereas I know death is inevitable. This concept of “temporary” is terrifying. But, at the same time… there’s a certain sense of freedom in fear - and in these uncertain, fleeting, unique moments.

Everything truly is temporary.