Time waits for no one.

I've often wondered, as I take a look through my older posts, if I've changed at all in the past six years that I've been blogging.  With all that's gone on in the past few years, with losing my longtime job, then returning to college for an engineering degree, and finally bouncing from employer ever since.  Not to mention the disastrous relationships I've endured in that time.

I suppose I've changed a bit, the core part of me hasn't changed, but certainly some parts of my personality have changed, chipped away by the flow and ebb of time passing.  I used to get so angry when setbacks came into my life that I'd have to find some form of physical release.  Now, when I see another setback, I merely shrug my shoulders and move on.  I worry that my apathy towards increasing levels of misfortune isn't more than resignation that life is unfair.  Is it a sign that I'm done with this life?

Is it wrong to detach yourself from the passing inequities that the passing of time subjects one to?  I've often worried at the thought.  There's that concern that I'm shrugging off stuff that I should attempt to make better or at least battle against the inevitable tide.  That I should try to leave my mark on this world for all to see.

The counter argument to that is that when my time here is up, things will still be the same.  People will still love and hate, help and hurt each other long after I'm gone.  Any accomplishments I've garnered will soon be forgotten in three or four generations.

In the end, I may change or fight to stay the same, but I understand that time won't wait for me to decide.  Now if only I knew which way I'd choose.