Finite

As time goes on, it dawns on me that time is finite, not infinite. Although it would seem obvious that time is not infinite, we can lose ourselves in experiences that make it seem that time is infinite, such as our hobbies, or spending countless hours listening to music or watching movies. During those musical or cinematic experiences, we’re not even aware of time passing, but rather, we’re transported elsewhere as if time doesn’t exist in the place we’re at.

But when we come back to reality, we become aware of time again, the marching of the clock as it winds down to evening and then morning. It’s like experience itself isn’t quantifiable, but the quantification of time seeks to impose itself on experience as if it should be contained and timestamped.

It’s this duality of subjective and objective time where one seems to be right and the other wrong, and vice versa. Subjective time seems infinite whereas objective time is not, and somewhere between the two, time doesn’t really care, as it sees everything as just passing by and moving along.