Your love life has been a series of encounters with people you deeply admire at what seems to be at the worst possible times. You want to be a part of their lives and for them to be a part of yours, but this other-wordly force that calls itself “time” seems hell bent on letting you act. Moving away for a job. School. They’re still them and you’re still you, but somehow nothing is the same anymore even when you try your best to try to keep it so.
You watch a few videos, read a few articles, and aha! Just another instance of the classic trope — “right person, wrong time.” But you can only say that so much before you start to question if the right time will ever even happen. Maybe it’s not time that’s wrong, but you instead. Then you question your ability to act, and scower at your lack of tenacity to fight time the way Sisyphus fights gravity. Who would love such a “wrong” person? No one would. A deep hatred towards yourself builds.
You feel so lost, you don’t even know how you can get un-lost from here again. So you sit, hoping that maybe time eventually shows you the way. And time stares back at you, for it too is awaiting the same thing.