Time.

Cause I need more time. Just a few more months and we'll be fine. Just say what's on your mind. Cause I can't figure out just what's inside.

Time. What a concept. It's arbitrary-ness. It's necessity. It's control. It's invisible- but aren't most important things.

Sometimes time passes slowly, creeping along as if it is syrup slowly seeping along a slippery pancake. Other times it races by, as if it is Michael Johnson, running at record speeds towards a goal. A finish line.

How to feel about time puzzles me. It can seem urgent, as if not one second should be wasted. Like I can't get enough. So much to do. So many memories to be made.

Other times, it feels like it doesn't matter. Sure, February is over, but there will be another February. It will probably feel similar to this one. Or will it?

When I was a kid, probably in third or fourth grade, I had an insane fear of the end of time. Of the world ending. I can remember many balmy summer nights, laying in my bed beside my lime green accent wall in my bedroom, working myself up into a cold sweat. I couldn't wrap my mind around time. Around the concept that forever would never end. Never. Ever.

Striking a balance between that urgency, that fear that it will end, and that fear that it will never end, is the challenge. But then again, isn't striking a balance the challenge of life?