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Sofia Skuza Rivera
Life is getting shorter
Not the years, the days, or the hours themselves
It’s our perception of them
A year used to be one-fifth of your life—then it was one-eighth—then one-tenth
Before you know it, your year will feel like a one-year-old’s week
It’s a punishment for getting older
You age faster; birthdays become a normality
The sunset does not last as long, the darkness taking over
Summer blocks off less of your calendar, replaced by winter ever so quick
Young years felt so long
Now you are just running away from them
Forced to increase your speed at every turn