Sometimes I actually wonder if time flexes and shrinks; if, even though a minute is always always sixty seconds, sometimes those seconds are quicker or slower than others. If one day can be twice as long as another day with the same amount of hours in it.
I know, I know: clocks. Clocks with their steady, constant ticking and their hastening hands and their exactly-evenly-spaced numbers. Still. I've looked my kitchen clock in the face and I don't quite trust it.
There is, maybe, a conspiracy here? Someone with a universal fast-forward button, skipping over all the good minutes so that you have to swallow them whole before you've even tasted them? Because I'm scrolling back through my Instagram feed and thinking that this weekend shouldn't even be over yet, let alone the entire month of February.