I know the clock is always ticking, and it can’t be replaced to benefit myself of my own decisions. Nothing will change; no hands on the clock will be mixed or minutes and seconds will miraculously stop and turn back time just for me. But what I do is just constantly stare at it, wasting that precious time pressing the glass from my wrist watch against my ear. I’m already too far gone in the depths of what seems to be the center of my mind, where the thoughts float and memories are held. Time has dawned on me that it doesn’t move or control me—I know what i’m doing and what’s going on around me. My legs are crossed as I sit and stare at the white melancholy clock that ticks away.