Feeling Late

I woke up early in the morning with a sense of lateness.
To life, to living, to dreams, to the people I love, to myself and to today.
What creates this feeling of being late?
Why does my mind go there first when I wake up?
Does everything have its time or everything happen in its own time?
What makes timing feel so shared when everything else feels so deeply personal?

Even when it feels like I am inside it – I am outside of time.

This feeling doesn’t come from truly being late.
Maybe it comes from not being able to accept the past or from a lack of trust in the future.
Maybe from looking at other lives and comparing my life to them.
Or maybe from knowing that everything and myself – is finite and wanting to catch the life before it slips away.

I pause, take a deep breath and remind myself that:

What happened, happened.
What happened, had to happen.
What will happen, will happen.
What is, is.