Round, circular, spherical? Unsure. Sometimes square on the wrist. Regardless, it’s enormous and unstoppable. Long hands that march relentlessly, surpassing each number on the dial. Each ticking sound accompanies with it, a taunt that fervently screams at you, “you’re at a crossroads: too young to die but too old to not have already accomplished everything that you ever wanted.”
On tough days, you accept this taunt, but sometimes, when you’re making strides in therapy, you wrestle with the inner dialogue. You beg for it to be gentler with you. The passage of time is ever-forgiving and there is a lot in life desperately awaiting your grasp, if only you let go of all that may have slipped through your fingers.