Time Flies

We promised a whole year, but it feels like a scam. As soon as I finished cleaning up last year's Lunar New Year couplets, it's already time to pre-order next year's. When I was young, days were like longevity noodles, endless no matter how much you pulled; Now that I'm grown, time is like a conveyor belt sushi, blink and it's gone before the plate even gets warm. My New Year's resolutions from the start of the year are still lying flat, while the year-end fat has already automatically joined the party. Time isn't a pig-slaughtering knife, it's an invincible accelerator, turning thirty seconds into a minute, and compressing three hundred sixty-five days into an illusion.