It Quickens
It Quickens stories
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If you haven't done anything you regret you haven't lived long enough. I regret quite a bit but then, I've lived a long time. I remember the interminable days of school when, as a boy, I'd count the seconds until summer.
By 39thversion https://www.reddit.com/r/...

It Quickens

by 39thversion

If you haven't done anything you regret you haven't lived long enough. I regret quite a bit but then, I've lived a long time.

I remember the interminable days of school when, as a boy, I'd count the seconds until summer.

I remember, too, how when they finally came those summers seemed to stretch to infinity, each day languidly rolling into the next.

I got older, as people are wont to do, and time seemed to speed up a bit. Nothing terribly noticeable at first, just a gradual quickening.

I had my heart broken. I broke some hearts. It seems to be the way of life. I hurt people I cared for. I made some amends and I got the chance to love so deeply it hurt. My late wife.

God, how I'd love one more day with her. One more hour.

And always behind it all was a quickening as though my life was snowballing inexorably toward something, the time compressing in front of me like a passing siren.

Perception is a strange thing, uniquely personal. How can you ever explain an experience to another and do it justice? You can't.

I know now, though, that my perception of time is very similar to yours. Every day you live is less a percentage of your life than the day before. This is why it quickens. I know this.

But now I know other things, as well.

I passed my eightieth birthday in a sprint. I bore down on ninety like a man on a mission and when I passed ninety-five I entered a realm of life which few experience.

Not many make it to my age, for now I'm 102 years old. I'm mostly lucid and about as spry as you'd expect. Strange, though. Time has slowed down and it didn't do it gradually.

I woke one day to find that the seconds and hours dragged on and on and on. At this stage the market of new experience offers slim pickings.

Mostly it's a trudging slog and you get used to memories behaving like tendrils of ephemeral fog, advancing and retreating seemingly at their whim.

But this slowing down. This slowing down has got me feeling some kind of way. I figured maybe it was a test.

Possibly one last middle finger to those of us who live long enough, the universe laughing coldly at our longevity.

I feel my body breaking down, the bones turning to dust under my translucent skin, the processes slowing. Slowing.

Everyone I know and love is gone and I feel eternity's open maw beneath me. Strange to wish for the end but I do now and I know it won't be quick.

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