Time is Finite...
One day you wake up and look at the calendar, it's October, this should come as little surprise as you have not recently found yourself in a coma, but you can swear the last concrete memory you have was in February. You wander into your bathroom only to discover you are in desperate need of a haircut, "Wait," you say out loud to yourself, "I can clearly recall having just got my haircut, I don't even think I paid off the credit card for that transaction yet."
|I know beards are "in," but seriously get yourself together.|
You grab your phone to confirm your suspicion, completely unmoved by the fact that you hold the computing power of a space shuttle in the palm of your hand, and find that your last haircut was in July. Summoning up your previous encounter with the calendar you realize this means it's been just over two months since your last trim.
Someone once explained how time seems to move faster the older you get, they used relativity and percentages and just generally bored me with their bantering, but I retained the memory well enough to regurgitate it in the paragraph. When you're 5 years old, a year is 20% of the time your brain has been recording information. When you hit 15 years old this percentage falls to 6.66%, by the time you are 25 years old one year is a mere 4% of the time you've lived.
At some point you seem to hit a proverbial warp speed and days, weeks, months and even years pass without even seeming to leave a trace of having ever occurred. You start to worry that you have developed some sort of multiple personality disorder and hope that you don't spend your lost time eating the hearts of street walkers.