#thought collection
When some people look at the clock they see numbers. Others all that they must get done; the requirements they must meet. Every ticking second presents a new hoop to jump through, a new kid to pick up or chore to get done. When I look at the clock all I see is you.
The ticking hands show me every second we’ve spent together and every hour we’ve spent apart. The hands tick down tediously to your arrival. They race around the clock to mark your departure. When you are gone they are there to daunt me. When you are here they are there to taunt me. When I look at the clock I see every minute since we first met, every hour we spent together at that old diner, and ever second we sat in silence because I messed something up. The hands point forth to an age of loneliness they show me a life of minutes spent without you.
