How Time Changes the Way You See Everything

 

How Time Changes the Way You See Everything

When you’re in the middle of something, love, heartbreak, loss, failure

It feels absolute.
Like this is it.
Like the rest of your life will be colored by this exact shade of pain or joy.

But time… time has this strange, quiet way of rearranging everything.

The things that once kept you awake at night slowly lose their power over you.
The people you swore you could never live without become distant memories, and sometimes, strangers.
Even the versions of yourself you thought were permanent whether it be your tastes, your beliefs, your dreams they shift, soften, or fade away.

It’s not because you forget.
It’s because you grow.
And growth changes the lens through which you look at life.

One day, you’ll stumble upon an old photo or a chat screenshot, and you’ll notice something:
It won’t hurt the way it used to.
You’ll see details you missed before the tired look in your eyes back then, the way you were holding on too tightly, the cracks in what you thought was perfect.
And you’ll wonder how you couldn’t see it at the time.

Time does that.
It adds distance between you and the moment, and in that space, perspective blooms.
It doesn’t erase the past, but it makes it less heavy to carry.
It teaches you that what felt like the end was often just a bend in the road.

And maybe the most beautiful part?
Time doesn’t just change how you see your pain it just changes how you see your joy.
You start to appreciate the small moments more: the laughter that came when you least expected it, the quiet mornings, the people who stayed.
You learn that nothing no feeling, no phase, no season lasts forever.
And somehow, that makes it all the more precious.

So if right now it feels unbearable, know this:
One day, you’ll look back and see it differently.
Not because what happened changes, but because you will.
And that’s the quiet miracle of time.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Art of Letting Go

  The Art of Letting Go No one ever tells you that letting go feels like treason. Not treason against them, but against yourself. Because in the beginning, every fiber of your being protests. It whispers that clinging is virtuous, that if you endure with greater patience, or love with greater intensity, perhaps time will rewind and restore what once felt eternal. But it never does. Letting go is never a single act. It is a battle waged in silence, a conflict fought daily with unseen wounds. It is erasing their number from your phone, yet finding it carved into your memory with cruel permanence. It is standing beneath the cascade of water, hearing again the cadence of their laughter, and bracing yourself against the wall because the memory strikes with the force of a blow. It is pretending to be unscathed, while every melody, every familiar street, every lingering fragrance resurrects their absence. And still, voices around you say, “Just move on.” As though detachment we...
Read more

Never. Ever. Give Up.

  Never. Ever. Give Up. There’s this moment, right before you quit, that nobody talks about. It’s quiet. It’s not fireworks or big drama. It’s you, staring at the ceiling at 3 a.m., thinking, “I can’t do this anymore.” And maybe it’s your dream, your relationship, your studies, or just… life in general. You’ve been trying for so long it feels like pushing a boulder uphill, and honestly, you’re tired. Like bone-deep tired. I’ve been there. And here’s the thing,  that moment, the one that feels like the end? It’s usually the turning point. Because the universe has this cruel-funny way of testing you right before things shift. People think “never give up” means you have to be strong all the time. It doesn’t. It means showing up even when you feel like trash. It means doing the tiniest thing you can manage i.e. one email, one workout, one page read, instead of nothing at all. It means letting the dream sit in your lap for a while, even if you can’t hold it tightly ...
Read more

The Trouble With Tomorrow

  The Trouble With Tomorrow I’ve spent a ridiculous amount of my life waiting for the “right” moment. The right time to start. The right time to be happy. The right time to finally feel like I’ve arrived somewhere. And in the process, I’ve missed a lot of now . It’s strange — we treat the present like a hallway. Something we just walk through on our way to something better. We’re always thinking, “When I get there… then I’ll breathe, then I’ll live.” But “there” keeps moving. It never stays still long enough to catch. The truth? There’s no there . There’s only here . I’ve started noticing the small things more — not because I suddenly became some Zen master, but because I’m tired of missing my own life. The way sunlight sneaks through the curtains and paints the wall in soft gold. The smell of bread from the bakery down the street. The fact that I can still call my best friend at midnight and they’ll pick up, no questions asked. These things are tiny. They’re easy to...
Read more