It's the half-way point of the year, apparently. Half #1 is through, and we begin on half #2. (I am not being so precise as to check where is the exact middle point of the year, because I don't actually care about being that precise. I'm okay with using culturally-defined months rather than scientific precision. It's more useful to me.)
I make a point of not saying things like "wow, where did the month go?" or "time goes so fast." If I feel like time is going too fast, it's my own fault for not making good enough use of it. I generally feel that way when I haven't gotten much done in a given set of days or weeks.
I'm still marveling at this turning-point of the year, though. Half a year down, half a year of living in my family's home, half a year of trying to figure out how to work as a writer (and think of myself as a writer, and live like a writer, and worrying that being a writer is not what I'm supposed to be doing and I actually am wasting all of this time). Half a year since I left my old apartment, and I think of it very little. Well, that's nothing unusual. I never think backward without effort. I forget what happened last Monday, let alone last January.
Time goes. Like it or not, use it or not, time goes and never stops going. Today reminds me to go along with it, or else simply lose it, for good.