LittlePaintedTree: Driving was okay actually, though I didn't think the instructor would put that much trust in me - he literally said these are the pedals, gear stick, mirrors, now drive home. Scary, but fun. I hope you have a lovely day (also cute name)
Anonymous user: I think the producers did it on purpose...
Demi Clayton: I'm glad you liked it!
Short but sweet, enjoy
Chapter 23: Reason to stay
If you've ever really thought about it, space and time is an odd concept. The idea as a whole is strange enough, but looking at the details makes it even more confusing. What is time? Who decides how many seconds are in a minute, how many minutes are in an hour or how many hours are in a day? Who even decides if time is real? For all we know, it is simply a delusion, a distraction, a thought implanted in our brains to make us worry. Time, if you asked, say, a physicist, is defined as: 'the indefinite continued progress of existence and events in the past, present, and future regarded as a whole'.
That's the key word though, isn't it – indefinite. You could also say infinite (unless, of course, time disappears one day, which is most unlikely). Many people would trade anything for a bit longer from their infinity, wishing they could have just one more day, one more hour. Many are cursed with the notion of time; it slips through their fingers so fast they don't even realise they have lost it until it is gone.
It's the opposite for some people though. Jack Frost, for example. He no longer cherished his days: he had no need to wish for the hours to last a little bit longer. One – he had no one to share them with. Two – for him, time did not matter. The whole idea of right and wrong, of true and false, of reality, of everything you learn when you're human, it just disappears. Days merge into one long cycle, though never repeating- just continuing in a blur, indefinitely.
You can never make time stop – you can only make it more bearable. Sometimes that is until the end, and sometimes that's because there is no end. Whatever the reason, everyone needs their special something. Or someone.
Jack Frost, after centuries of waiting, had finally found his reason.
Fate, possibly. Man in Moon, finally repaying his debt to the winter spirit; asking for forgiveness for the eternal solitude he had (unintentionally, but that's a story for another day) sentenced the boy to. Greed, corruption, an impossible lust for power from one lonely spirit, too lowly in the ranks for someone as powerful as the Guardians to even consider, before it was too late.
Whatever the reason, he was sure thankful. No longer did he dread waking up in the morning. No longer did shrink from his seasonal duties or take him emotions out via the weather or discard the days as though they didn't matter.
No, for once, for the first time ever, he was at peace with his existence.
He couldn't ask for more - a family, a (real) home, a purpose in his life. He now cherished his days, the hours passing bringing excitement and joy, rather than sinking him further into a deep pool, and endless abyss, of hopelessness.
At last, his existence didn't feel like a punishment. Time. He was now glad he had more of it. For though everyone is gifted with their own amount of hours, weeks, years; Jack Frost could not have been more grateful for his infinity.