When I speak of time relativity, I am not speaking of time dilation or even Einstein’s theory of special relativity. But instead, I had been pondering about the relativity of time psychologically.

I will start simply with a quote that has been said to come from Albert Einstein:

When you sit with a pretty girl for an hour it seems like a minute, but when you are on a hot stove, a minute seems like an hour. That’s relativity.

Now, whether that quote really does come from that Nobel prize winner or not is not of any relevance for this entry, because really, I’m not trying to prove anything. Anyhow: for you girls, perhaps a dreamy and handsome man? But even so, anything but the hot stove, I suppose. (Also, any theories on how one would feel being with a pretty girl on a hot stove? xD)

I conclude that like the saying goes, ‘time sure flies when you’re having fun’…

It seems that how quickly time goes in my mind seems to depend hugely on what we spend it on. The more enjoyable my activity, the quicker time passes by; or rather, the less I want it to end, the quicker it will (O God, you are too cruel!). And that is why waiting feels like we’re wasting such a huge portion of our time while endlessly chatting on the telephone (for hours about nothing in particular with a certain someone) might not feel like so.

There is also the strange phenomena of how despite the fact that I feel utterly bored in seven hours of school, the seven days of a week seems to pass by too quickly as it arrives to (another) Monday.

But for some reason, these twelve days since my revelation feels like months have passed already. And though I’ve only known you well for a few months, I’m already starting to think that you’ve been there all my life. Though there are people I’ve known all my life and have been through it with me longer, I don’t feel like I spend time with them as often, even though it’s easier for me to meet them face-to-face.

Passing through twelve hours also felt long at the start of it, but the realisation that the clock is ticking comes knocking when seven-o’-clock is near. And though those twelve hours are indeed long, what is it compared to the thirty other days of the month of abscence?

But I suppose it’s alright, since twelve hours of our week are already spent just talking. And I suppose, that is how us humans live in a fine, fine line between feeling like there’s just not enough time and being sick of living already.

/gajelas