Well, I have no idea what happened with the first 22 days of July, but I know that they are long gone, blurred into the thousands of other long-gone days, never to come back, never to be repeated.
It sounds like I'm depressed, huh?
Well, I'm not depressed, as much as amazed how quickly time flies without realizing it has even passed. I remember when I was a kid in school, I would be sitting in class, listening to the teacher and concentrating one minute, and the next feeling like I just woke up from a long sleep to find myself somewhere I did not recognize, and wondering how everybody ended up 10 pages ahead of me in the textbook. I still don't know the cause of these (for lack of a better term) mental blackouts-- it could've been the ADD I suffer from today-- but they only happened on a small scale back when getting older sounded cool.
Nowadays, it's like my whole life is zipping by and no matter how hard I concentrate, no matter how well I listen, I am always disoriented and waking up to something I don't feel prepared to face. Not too long ago I read an article about the phenomenon of what I will informally call: the time warp. I wish I could find this article, because I don't remember the exact details of what it said, but the gist of it was that there is a scientific/psychological explanation for why when we are children, days seem longer than just 24 hours, while in adulthood, 24 hours is not enough to get anything done. When I was a kid, Summertime felt longer. When I was a kid four years seemed like a lifetime. Today, Summer is about two days long and four years is just one year.
And so life goes, right past me, and all I can do is try to keep up with it, enjoying it as best as I can. To do anything less is to fall behind, and that can only mean death.