“It is Time”

Lowkey actually my Literature assignment. Shhhhh.

It is time for greater and less than signs to be eliminated from society

It is time for women to not feel endangered whenever she goes out at night for a couple of drinks

It is time for those to not condemn others for praising a higher deity

It is time for racial nicknames to end – “cracker,” “diaper heads,” “chinks”

It is time to let situations draw us back only to know that it will leave us soaring in the sky like a bow and arrow

It is time to roast marshmallows around a bonfire rather than roasting each other when being realistic

It is time for society to see that mental illnesses are not an adjective

It is time for humans to stop acting as robots, cold-hearted and stoned, but to sober up and be altruistic

It is time for Americans to stop sleeping on the American Dream, but to wake up and live

It is time to stop saying, “It is time,” and genuinely act upon your moving lips and go


Time’s Ticking. Where Does it Go?

23 December 2014. This photo was taken.

160 days in-between 23 December 2014 and 1 June 2015.

Looking for a photo of my math notes through my camera roll, I start scrolling up towards past pictures. Then I continue scrolling and continue scrolling until I’m tapping on each photo reminiscing in the times I laughed so hard I almost started crying. I remember the moments I ran around with no cares in the world, feeling like the patriots did on 4 July 1776. I stare at my phone, gazing at the image that flashbacks to the times I stood, stared at this group of teenagers, and asked, “When the hell did I get so lucky?”

I’ve been irrationally irritated by them, but after talking to one of the friends who mean the world to me no matter how much of an ass he is, he made me see that it’s okay. And that’s all I’ve been asking for in the last couple months – for someone to simply tell me it’s okay.

After staring at the hundreds of pictures with the group, I begin to miss what it was before. The endless pizza we ate at night that we struggled to get because we’re poor, the reckless games of hide and seek, and the Jesus talks that weren’t forced or scheduled. I don’t know what happened.

Tick tock. Tick tock.

Most don’t understand the analogy within Peter Pan between the ticking crocodile and why exactly he keeps trying to eat Captain Hook. The story goes, Peter Pan and Captain Hook were in a fight, and Peter cut off Hook’s left hand and the crocodile eats it. After the crocodile had a sample of Hook’s hand, the crocodile wanted more and now continues to try to eat all of Hook. However, before eating the hand, the crocodile accidentally swallowed a clock. Where’s the analogy? Between Hook and the clock. The clock is ticking away, passing by after every second and ticks ticks ticks. Time is eating Hook away and is slowly killing him.

160 days. Doesn’t sound much, but the adventures and downhills within even 30 days seems to appall me. Like Hook, it’s eating at us.

I look back and reminisce the approximate 13,824,000 seconds.

Of course there are days where life seems to feel like the crocodile is right at the soles of our feet, but there are also the most unfathomable days that seems like time doesn’t exist and the only thing important is the fact that we’re breathing and having the greatest times of our lives.

But what’s the significance?

More important than what we may think. Sure we have 213 more days, but what happened to the last 152 we just experienced? They’re just memories and footprints we left in the sand. The seconds ticking, the minutes passing by, the hours that we wish would end sooner. It all goes somewhere. Every second marks a footprint on the eager sand awaiting for our momentous step. Depending on the imprint, it’ll either wash away by the rambunctious sea or remain cemented within the fragile grains. This breakable world expects our powerful influence to be embedded, absorbing all the effort we’re living for. Time’s ticking. We’re leaving a legacy.