It is the only thing that overcomes me. I am not the only one who wishes for more of it. One unstoppable hand encircling beneath the glass. One that if nonexistent the world would never be early or late. One universal excuse to accomplish dreams now, before it’s too late. It is everywhere, ticking and counting down every meaningful second. Everyone can hear it.

Its importance is no secret. It creates chaos and accidents. It never speeds up nor slows down, but remains at a constant, unstoppable pace. This is how it marks the minute, the hour, the day.

Forget to notice it and you can never turn back. Tick, tock, tick, tock, it cannot be erased. The clock continues on. It counts.

When I am too sad to think about what it has taken away from me, what I can never get back, I sit and stare at the clock, listening to the sound of its beating heart. There will never be something to distract me or anyone else from it. It is a ticking bomb that will never go off. It is never enough. This is why I must make the most of what little I have of it. It will continue on even when I no longer can. It waits for no one.