It’s a silly old thing, time. Isn’t it? There’s this power that it possesses for some reason. If you spend it poorly, it runs like water through a drain. If you spend it wisely, it might run like the summer months close to the north pole. Where the sunlight laces the days together and time seems to have created a wormhole of infinite length. But those scenarios can be reversed as well. Where it can speed up while having a wondrous time and then slow to a halt while you’re doing a task that you aren’t fond of. Time can be bent, skewed, thrown, stopped, pushed, delayed; manipulating it until you’ve achieved your goals. But what about the unfortunate few who have not had luck with time? Who have parted ways with missed chances or unseized opportunities because Lady Luck chose for them another fate; to not be in the ‘Right Place, Right Time’ section of life. As if you were in a constant state of ‘almosts’, but never getting any farther than that. And it’s not like you can force it. That’s the elusiveness of it. I have felt like that about relationships. Where the circumstances have not been spot on. Or the feelings, affections, have not been right. They have been an almost, but not quite. There hasn’t been that meshing of souls. The clicking of thoughts. There seems to have always been a catch. A bent cog in an antiquated time piece. A hiccup of everlasting sharpness. I guess what I’m trying to say is that I have not been given the opportunity to relish in that happy moment of everything clicking all at once. The merging of synchronicity. So perfect in timing that we hear the atom pop.