If you could stop time, would you? Or let’s say that you could go back in time. Even better, right? But what if you could go forwards in time? You’d know what was coming.
You’d know the beautiful things before they happened, and be robbed of the sweet surprise that comes as a part of such things. You’d know of all the terrible things before they happened, and you’d be burdened with the curse of knowing and waiting and wishing you could change the future before it happened.
But you’d know to brace yourself. You’d be ready for the storm before it came, and you’d be prepared, or however prepared you can be for your heart to rip in half.
And maybe you’d have cried yourself dry before it happened. And perhaps the tears wouldn’t be able to come anymore, and you’d face what was to come the way you always wished you could—dry-eyed and straight-faced.
Of course, that would be assuming that time would let you move around as you pleased inside it. And that will never happen, I’m afraid. But isn’t the very thought of it chilling? Imagine that you knew what was to come. That you’d experienced it already.
For you, the future has lost its brilliantly obscure beauty.
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