We take time for granted more than anything else. We throw it away, we wish it away.
We settle into these deep ruts where we think for a while that the people around us will always be around us and the things around us will always be the way they are. And the sun will always shine the same way, and the trees outside will always scrape your windowpanes in the same place.
But everything looks different when you can see the clock ticking, when you can feel the little grains of sand slipping through the cracks of your hands.
You're trying to hold on to it for as long as you can, but you know you can't pin down time. It's when you realize that that your actions get more desperate.
The people around you mean so much more, and that little desk in the corner that you've spent so many long, monotonous nights sitting at seems so much more crucial, and every time you enter and leave a room you begin to wonder how many times are left that you will enter and leave the same room before you can't anymore.
When you can see the clock ticking, everything seems more urgent. Your happiness becomes ecstasy, your melancholy is more devastating, your love is more potent and more wrenching. You realize how much you've done, but you realize more how much you haven't.
It's tragic that this is how human nature is. Tragic in a beautiful way.