My relationship with time is not easy to explain. It’s strict, intense—and deeply mine.
I plan my minutes. Not just my days or hours—my minutes. If something’s meant to happen at 6:00, then 6:05 is already too late. It breaks something in me. Throws me off. One missed step and the whole rhythm is out—the next beat doesn’t land, and I feel like I’ve lost the flow of my own day.
It’s not about perfection. It’s not even about control. It’s about rhythm. Discipline. Clarity. I move through time like a musician keeping tempo. And when the beat is off, everything else feels out of tune.
Sometimes, I feel different because of this. People around me seem more relaxed, more go-with-the-flow. I’ve tried that too—tried to loosen up, bend, blend in. But I lose something when I do. I lose that sharpness, that presence, that sense of self I’ve worked so hard to hold onto.
Yes, it’s intense. Yes, it’s different. But it works for me. It keeps me grounded. It helps me show up fully and hold myself accountable in ways that matter to me.