Nothing's real, so just let go.
Whether you want it to or not, time's still moving wher you're standing still.
Time comes in frames.
The bodies you've left in the past remain there; unseen, untouchable.
Yet they're still there, lingering.
You're in the future, waiting to exist.
You're here now.
You're everywhere you've ever been and everywhere you'll ever be.
You're wherever you'd like to be.
You're nowhere.
Because life is no more than a preception of your own reality.
It's what you make it out to be when you're living in your mind.
The world isn't round, it's whatever shape you've molded it into.