Time is a great teacher . . . but unfortunately it kills all its pupils. The one thing that no amount of money, prayers, efforts or any freakin’ thing can bring back, yet everyone desires; the past . . . The bliss of memories that have passed . . .
It is a sad irony that even though everyone complains about the present, but when the tense changes, every single person just wants it back. That’s the sweetest bitterness of it; it can never come back. But the human nature just desires of that which it can’t get. But the clock doesn’t stop ticking, the sands of time just grow deeper and deeper, until the time comes when you get buries under them.
If they were ever to build a time machine, which, of course, would have come up, because if anyone ever does get lucky enough to create one in the future, they’d’ve come back and we’d be seeing it today or maybe years ago, but if they ever were to succeed in building it, people would go back to the past to re-live it and would just hate it as much as they did when it was the present. That’s the beauty of it; it’s the past, the never coming-back, an unending source of solace in the memories which tends to get the better of every human being.
Even an ex-con reflects back on the time he’s done and at some point or another in his life after being released, wishes he were back behind the bars; even though at that time nothing could’ve been more closer to the experience of hell than that one. Yet, as ungrateful as they’ve been since the beginning of time, humans tend to get nostalgic at some point or another in life.
