Past tense, present tense.

Staring out the window, I hear chirping birds welcoming the day. The cool peace of morning beckons a fresh start...traces from the night before, all but buried with the passing of Time. This is the routine of Life, going ahead with no sympathy for our past. Memories reminded our deeds...though some choose to remember, some choose to forget. But there's no denying the imprints on Time, for she had been there to see. It's an irreversible mark on a lifeline. And it's not a death sentence. Every face conceals a journey with tales to spare.

You seek at your own discretion, some tales are not meant for the weak to listen. Harping on them does not change events from the past. Instead, you get swallowed by the brutality of honesty and lose yourself in the present.

The present will become a past once it's gone and I dun wan a lifetime of regrets.

Dun be silly anymore.