Time is like sand

You know, I never thought about how much time and sand are similar (I know, the whole hour glass thing, but i think it goes beyond that).  I was thinking (as I often do) about how much time has passed from, really pick any point in time that has already passed, and think about the memories of that certain moment forged.

Now think of that memory as being a sandcastle when it was formed, we used sand (time) to forge it so it could remain solid in our minds.  As time wears on, the memory becomes fuzzier, the sand grains begin to break off and return to whence they came, and in the end - we are ultimate left with a hazy memory of the general shape of what it was.  No matter how grand it was.

Unless you have photographic memory, well then fuck you.

But yeah, I mean... time passes on and simply seeps through the spaces inbetween our fingers.  We cling on to these moments like they mean something, but in the end, they will pass, and the desert will reclaim what it is its.  But that doesn't mean we shouldn't make sand castles -- they're still a lot of fun to make.  It's simply funny to think of time and sand.

Time continues to tick, and sand continues to fall and dissemble itself.  Memories we have begin to fade, and seem so far away... oh so far away.  There are some things that I swear on my life I remember like it happened 2 seconds ago, but I mean... really... how accurate can you be?  With pictures or video, we can be more sure, but it's never really quite the same as you had once thought it to be.

So! Let me put it all into context... I was driving on my way back to college and was deep in thought (as I often am) and thought of high school 4 years ago.  The things I had then, the ideas I held so high, the people I held so dear, the girl I held so close - had all... changed in some fashion.  I mean to say... none of them were quite the same.  This is natural - things change with time.  The metaphor my mind had conjured was me walking through an ancient ruin of a city I had once created.  Now looking back at it, and looking at it's altered state and how much time has taken its toll on this ruined city was simply... shocking.  Thinking about that led me to the imagery of me in a desert, a completely open desert, trying to build together everything I had and simply watching it - all fall through my fingers.  The sand sifted through my fingers no matter how hard I would try to put it the way it was.

Some would argue that change isn't a bad thing.  Think of all the new things that have come out of it.  While I do agree, you're missing my point.

The point is simply that the possibility, the very possibility, of restoring things to the way they were before, in their previous condition, is simply never an option.  Ever (notice I bolded AND underlined it).  Returning to that specific point in time, experiencing all those emotions at that time, will never be an option - and THAT, to me, is a simply tragic thing.  It's like seeing your child being hauled away while you are on the other side of a gate with your arm outstretched reaching for them.  All you can do is try and remember their face as it was.

and even that in the end...

will change.