It was just another day. Or maybe it wasn’t.
I remember sitting in silence, staring at the wall as the clock ticked in slow motion. Each second felt like an hour, each breath heavier than the last. Have you ever felt time refusing to move, almost as if it was punishing you for waiting? I wondered, why does time behave like this? When we’re laughing with friends, hours dissolve into minutes. But when we’re trapped, whether in a room, a situation, or our own thoughts, every moment lingers, stretching endlessly. Science tells us it’s about perception. The brain marks novelty, excitement, and change as “fast.” Repetition, pain, and monotony as “slow.” But is there more to it? Could time itself be different depending on the weight of our emotions?