Going through time has to be one of the strangest experiences ever. First of all, to even think about how insignificant the span of our existence is makes it even more interesting. In a universe where we have predicted how things might look like quadrillion years from now and just how small we are in comparison, it amuses me how the things which matter to us are actions of these other insignificant travellers in time, as confused as we are. 

The more immediate and at hand problem, one might say, but as we go through what seems to be an agonizingly long life in a relatively timeless universe, we realise that all these "travellers in time" in our life who we parted ways with sometime in our life, start to value, if not us, the time and the memories they shared with us. We change as they grow up and there emotional needs develop, we start wanting to hold on to to things and people who once saw us be a purer version of ourselves, who shared simpler times with us, who we knew before the world turned to shit, a selfish place where everyone is chasing something or someone, where everyone is tired and cranky. Suddenly we start to let go of the negativity and hate which once caused us to part ways and start acknowledging their presence.

Some of us find it toxic, others beautiful.