I think there is a scientific explanation for the feeling that time passes faster and faster as you get older. At 15, the arrival at 18 seems eternal, but from 50, and even before, the months go by at a devilish speed and not to mention after 60, when one day you celebrate your birthday, you leave sleep and when you wake up, the cake has, again, one more candle.
How can it be that September has already arrived, if two days ago it was Christmas and, wait, as you read these lines we may already be on New Year's Eve. The days last a breeze and the months begin with the savage decline of the balance in the checking account and, of course, you are the one pushing time: you are looking forward to the weeks passing so that your monthly income arrives. Perhaps that is the measure of the passage of time: the wait for new income to meet expenses, both current and extraordinary, those that arrive when you least expect them, in the form of a cracked refrigerator, a missing tooth, or a broken car. rebellion.
This dizzying passage of time has its advantages and its exceptions. The best thing is that, suddenly, you realize that what hurt you a year ago you no longer even remember; Everything bad starts to take so long that one fine day you realize that you have forgotten even what you thought you had not forgiven.
Time, however, seems to drag on in those sleepless nights in which there is no way for daylight to come; just as minutes seem like hours to receive a medical result. From which it follows that, in reality, happiness seems to last less than misfortune. A pleasant vacation ends quickly, and yet those days you spend in the company of people you don't quite fit in with seem endless.
Then you look at the calendars and the clocks and it turns out that, whatever happens, time passes at the same rate and there is no choice but to admit that it is you who is no longer doing well with the measurements or with the weights.
