Nothing matters. On a second thought, almost nothing matters. Everything is fleeting at any given point of time and can be best described as a phase. However, being humans with a heart that refuses to stop beating itself to death, a tongue that wags like a serpent and a mind that is perpetually licked by abstractness, we try to enslave moments. So we end up attaching meaning to the meaningless. In the process, we even extend our chances at feeling luckier than we actually are. Which could be a reason why we click pictures, capture those sweet moments that will always be ours to keep. We dive into ourselves, touch the recess of those events that ended up shaping us into the person that we are today. It's a struggle against time. It's a greater struggle against yourself. Because you are temporary but what you did with/to time isn't. It's etched there forever. Like an itch that is going to scratch itself for good. And we thought we are mortals! How can we be so when our greatest gift is time? What matters is those moments that define who was the master and who got enslaved.