The sight was grotesque, yet crookedly demanded their eyes upon the sight before them, as if they were being forced to accept its presence. The thing had a twisted shape, of which seemingly indicated its having no beginning nor end. Teenagers are only so naive, and never expected for their curious endeavors to uncover a reality like this. Don’t they all just want to party, to laugh, to love, to have fun, and not worry about what it is that is in front of them?

But ultimately, they were no different than the group who previously experienced the same dissonance-inducing sight before them; the teenagers of the past generations whose bubbly outlook on life had temporarily dwindled to dust following the discovery. This experience is described as almost… surreal when encountered, for a drastic change commanded upon the outlook on life is an arguably jarringly emptying discovery.

It can only be described as the revelation of time: a true revelation of time, not understanding the fact that it exists, but _interpreting_ its existence. Becoming engulfed in the knowledge that time consumes _all_: good, bad, right, wrong, fear, hope, pain, joy. Time stamps a deadline onto everything, conceptual and tangible; time _is_ God, because without it, we would neither cease to exist nor become into existence.

But, just as time does, it forces the teenagers to forget the drooping weight it held on their shoulders, just like all before them, and they’ll repeat what the previous perpetual victims of time--their mothers and fathers—said to them to their teenagers entering the perversely cyclic cyle of time: « It’s just a phase, honey. »