tock

Tick, tock, tick, tock, tick, tock. The endless beating of time like a death knoll in his head. Ringing church bells in his heart. Tick, tock, tick, tock, tick, tock. Eternity stretched out before him. The view was not pleasant. Living life eternal, why would anyone want that? Had they not experienced the moments when it is already far too long? Tick, tock, tick, tock, tick, tock. Life drawing itself a much longer loop, finding itself a much larger canvas than the one it was on. And there was nothing on it. Scribbles starting from the bottom. Aimless, guided, but aimless in and of themselves. Guided to educate themselves, and then guided into a professional life. But when the guidance stopped, you could tell when it did, when the guidance stopped, the scribbles scrambled around, confused. They frantically rushed from one spot to the other, the flaws in their aimlessness now finally apparent, without the crutch of guidance. And then they stopped. Aimless. Pointless. And leaving three fourths of the canvas unfilled. Unfulfilled. Tick, tock, tick, tock, tick, tock. And yet, life was procuring more canvas on which to leave no trace. Pointless, meaningless. He sat cross legged, looking out the window, and seeing nothing. He was in a tunnel, there was no light, he did not know when he would see light. And it was only the beginning. It was like this every time. He knew it would end, it always did. Yet, when he was in the tunnel, it seemed endless. Tick, tock, tick, tock, tick, tock. There was always something to occupy himself with. But those things, when he looked at them from outside of himself, those things were dumbing him down. He grimaced. No, he really didn’t want to watch stupid entertainment that served no purpose. He wanted to reach apotheosis. And yet, he always ended up with them. In lieu of better things to do. Tick, tock, tick, tock, tick, tock. He sighed, a mellow sound. His foot complained of the pain of a thousand tiny pinpricks. It had fallen asleep. He could too. But then it would mess up his schedule. And it could upset that delicate tug of war between sanity and depression. No, he didn’t want the tides to rise. He was fine without them, thank you. Or was he? Was this much worse than the tides that drowned him? At least there would be activity, this was nothing. Better to die having lived, than to breathe having not lived. Sounded better in the head. Tick, tock, tick, tock, tick, tock. “Arghhh.” the sound cut through the silence, echoed through his ears. At least that had been something. Changed the static in the air. And now it was back to normal. Another deep stretched out breath. Time ticked away. He didn’t have anything to do. Anything that would keep it at bay, this monster that plagued him on the seventh day of every week. Tick, tock, tick, tock, tick, tock. He was bored.