It has been exactly twenty days since the start of the semester, and the days until graduation can once again be counted down. Time passes relentlessly, page after page of new books are flipped, day after day of the new school year goes by, welcome banners for freshmen are hung and taken down, then hung again. In this brief life, how many such cycles can we endure? Turning today into yesterday, and yesterday into history, time, whether joyful or painful, carves and fixes without negotiation, then slowly erodes the future that lies ahead of us; what remains is a heart that has been scattered by time, never to be mended again. How many times have I woken up crying in my dreams from the fear of growing up, and how many times have I lain on a hospital bed counting the minutes until the drip in the IV bag runs dry... I am amazed at the speed of time, and I cannot explain whether it is something that moves too fast or too slow. All I know is that when I am disappointed, it stretches out, and when I am content, it shortens; when I hate it, it lingers long, and when I love it, it rushes away. The most painful thing is that while time moves on, I am left waiting; while time races forward, I cannot find a breakthrough to soar. It always runs ahead to some intersection, turns around to mock me, watching me wander, helpless and useless, while I, shattered almost to my knees, beg it for mercy. But, I do not know what to ask for. In days of anticipation, I ask it to hurry, fearing to wait until "the past" catches up, and I ask it to slow down, fearing that I will never be able to turn over again.