After the door slams shut, and after the window that blew open closes...
I really don’t know much about anything. I know that a green light at a set of traffic lights means go, and I know that the sun rises in the east. I really don’t know much about science, or engineering, or how planes manage to stay in the air. But I do know that the window of opportunity is only open for so long. And when it shuts, it doesn’t slam shut with a resounding crack or loud reverb. It slides shut ever so slowly, silently, that you don’t know its shut until you’re sitting outside staring at the full moon, with the wind a little chilly - almost as if it’s laughing in mockery, wondering how you could’ve missed it closing. You don’t know it’s shut until you try to get in and realise, it really is shut.
I think, this is my first real regret. I think this is one of those times I’ll remember on my death bed and think: damn, that window. It’s an odd feeling of hating myself for not acting sooner and the dawning realisation that the universe, in all its unfairness, hangs these moments in our face only for us to completely neglect them, which is almost like a slap in the face to whomever or whatever concocts these moments. And then we wonder why things never go our way. Ironic if you ask me.
I think, this is my first real regret. I think this is one of those times I’ll remember on my death bed and think: damn, that window. It’s an odd feeling of hating myself for not acting sooner and the dawning realisation that the universe, in all its unfairness, hangs these moments in our face only for us to completely neglect them, which is almost like a slap in the face to whomever or whatever concocts these moments. And then we wonder why things never go our way. Ironic if you ask me.