I Am Running Out of Time

The ticking of the clock has always been a background noise, one we rarely pay attention to until the sound becomes a roar in our ears, reminding us of its relentless march forward. It’s strange how we often live as though time is infinite, as though there’s always tomorrow, next week, next year. But lately, I’ve found myself in a space where time feels like sand slipping through my fingers, and no matter how tightly I clench my fists, I can’t hold on to it.

There’s an urgency that creeps up on you when you realize you’re running out of time. It’s not about age, though that plays a part. It’s not even about the gray hairs or the lines that have started to form around the eyes. It’s deeper than that. It’s the realization that there are things you’ve put off for too long, conversations you haven’t had, dreams you’ve shelved for ‘someday,’ and moments that are slipping past you while you stand still, trying to figure out why.

I’ve spent so much time thinking about what I should do, what I could do, and what I might do, that I forgot to simply do. And now, the weight of that indecision, that procrastination, is pressing on me like a heavy blanket, suffocating in its intensity. It’s a weight that comes from knowing that while I’ve been waiting for the right time, the perfect opportunity, life has been happening around me, indifferent to my hesitation.

We’re often told that there’s plenty of time. That life is long and we should enjoy the journey. But what if the journey isn’t as long as we think? What if the detours and pit stops we make in the name of comfort or caution are just distractions from the things that really matter? I don’t know about you, but I’ve wasted enough time convincing myself that there will be another chance, another day, another moment to seize. I’ve wasted enough time not living the life I truly want.

I am running out of time. And it’s terrifying.

There are so many things I still want to do, places I haven’t seen, stories I haven’t written. There are people I need to apologize to, and others I need to let go of. There are dreams I’ve buried so deep inside that I sometimes wonder if they’re still there. And yet, the clock keeps ticking, indifferent to my panic, my fear, my regrets. Time doesn’t wait for us to catch up—it just keeps moving forward, dragging us along whether we’re ready or not.

I think about the times I’ve wasted on things that don’t matter—on trivial worries, petty arguments, self-doubt. I’ve spent so many sleepless nights thinking about things that, in the grand scheme of life, hold no weight. And now, as I look back, I can see the moments that I let slip by, moments that could have been spent doing something more meaningful, more fulfilling.

We can’t rewind time. We can’t go back and undo the choices we made, the opportunities we missed, or the time we wasted. But we can choose, right now, to stop wasting any more of it. Maybe that’s what this realization is all about. Not about mourning the time that’s gone but making the most of the time that’s left.

I don’t have the luxury of endless tomorrows. None of us do. But I do have today. And maybe that’s enough. Maybe it’s enough to start now, to live with intention, to embrace the time I have left instead of fearing its inevitable end.

So, I will stop waiting. I will stop convincing myself that there’s more time, that there’s another chance. The time is now. It’s time to let go of the things that don’t matter, to embrace the things that do, and to live each day as though it’s my last because, one day, it will be.

I am running out of time. But that’s okay. Because now I’m finally ready to make the time I have count.