I see clocks everywhere. Tick tock tick tock TICK TOCK TICK TOCK! They scream at me. Time races up; time slows down. You can’t control it. It makes me want to yell. I want to run up to every clock and punch in the glass, watch it shatter like my broken heart. I find myself passionate about life at times and I can’t help it. I can’t help when it happens, or when it stops. It just happens, to be honest. In these moments of passion I realize that I am slowly dying. We all are. Every day, we get closer to death. It’s an undeniable, inevitable fact. That depresses me. It depresses me that all of us are running an impossible marathon and falling down the cliff, flailing arms and legs, screams echoing.

The despair I feel when I think about life ending is like a rushing river, flooding through my veins. It’s always with me, in the back of my head. I try to stay positive, I really do. Sometimes, though, this seems to be an impossible feat. I want to yell, punch anything in sight, and rip apart everything at the seams. Occasionally, I just want to cry and cry and never stop.

It makes no sense really, if you think about it. Being upset over the conclusion of life that is death ultimately results in negative self-talk that make you eventually feel like you’re dying? Honestly, it’s so contradictory. But yet we do it; all of us. You can deny it all you want, nonetheless it’s true. It’s funny how we all say how much we love ourselves and all, when deep down inside we know that when night comes and we’re all alone, the thoughts will get us. It’s hard. We’re all turning into our own worst enemy, when in reality we are the only ones we have at the end of the day.

I hate clocks, to say the least. They mark time. I hate time. It always runs out. It’s so unpredictable. Minutes can drag on like years while years go by like minutes. Why is this, you may ask? I would tell you if I could. Some people say life is game; I beg to differ. Games you can win easily and be done with it. Life, on the other hand, when all is said and done, can only be won if you’re happy, a seemingly simple task. In reality though, it’s of upmost difficulty. In my opinion, you’re never really DONE with a certain situation. You can hide from it all you want but it just comes back and bites you. Clocks only emphasize this fact. I will always be fighting a war with time and the sad part is time will always win. And so I cry.