My blog becomes my journal

Today I entered a room on campus that I had not been in for about six years. I looked at the wall and immediately recognized a poster that has been there for all of my absence, statically staring down at countless unknowingly fleeting students. For some reason, I felt an aversion, an animosity even, for the poster. Why does it have a greater power than myself? How can it possess time in its clutches? I found myself utterly helpless in an attempt to hold on to a moment, feeling the suffocating of time passing even as I scowl at the poster, yet there it remains: immutable, omnipotent, constant. Why do I find in inanimation a life force that doesn't exist in life? "For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am know."