Time Travel Is Emotional

We think time travel requires a DeLorean,
a wormhole, or at least a decent Marvel budget.
But the truth? You do it every day.

You remember that mistake from ten years ago,
and suddenly your body flinches like it’s happening right now.
Your nervous system doesn’t care that it’s over —
it pulls the old file, presses play, and your cells believe it’s live.

Or you worry about what might go wrong next week,
and your heart rate spikes like the apocalypse just RSVP’d for brunch.
You’re sweating in the present
because of something that only exists in imagination.

That’s time travel.
Not in physics, but in feeling.

The past doesn’t exist.
The future doesn’t exist.
But your body keeps reacting like both are breaking news.

Here’s the shift:
Every time you catch yourself in a memory or a forecast,
you can choose not to board that time machine.
You can anchor to the only portal that doesn’t glitch your system: now.

Presence isn’t passive.
It’s the most radical act of self-regulation.
It’s where you stop looping reruns and stop directing disaster trailers —
and start creating the actual scene you want to live in.

Because the body listens.
And the signal you give it in this moment
is the only timeline it really knows how to believe.