time's up

A Poem by tee

There is a clock in my room and I don't remember putting it there, I'm not really sure how it got there in the first place, but the constant tick-tick-ticking is making my fingers twitch.

I can't look at it, I won't, because I know that looking means losing, and I think it's late in the night and I have to go to sleep, but the tick-tick-tick is echoing in my head.

I can't look, I warn myself, please! I can't I can't I can't-

One. My eyes stare at the bright green numbers on my bedside table, and even with the realisation that I have started this never-ending game that I will never win, all I know is that I need to keep going: I can't stop counting.

Two. Three. Four. Five. Just once, just one more time and then I can stop and the tick-tick-ticking will stop shut up quieten.

Six. Seven. I think that's right, right? The clock tells me nothing, just continues on as if unaware of my distress.

Eight. Nine. Ten. Why is it so loud? Can my flatmate hear it from where he lays peacefully in his room? Was I up to Eleven? Does that mean I'm now up to Twelve? For such basic numbers this is always so hard, why? Thirteen, maybe. I like thirteen.

Fourteen. Fifteen. The sheets scratch against my skin and the blanket feels so heavy against my chest and I feel like I suddenly can't breathe because of this weight pressing against my lungs and-

Wait, what was I up to again? Desperate eyes search the clock for some hint but it tells me nothing except that time is still going and I am left behind because I was the one who stopped: I stopped alone and the clock kept on going - Twenty-Four? Thirty-Five? Forty-Six? Thirty-Seven sounds like a good number.

Okay, Thirty-Eight. Thirty-Nine. Forty. I am back on track but it feels wrong wrong wrong.

The end is getting nearer and I'm only up to Forty-One. It's like the clock is a ticking time bomb and I've got one chance to get it right and save myself because who knows what will happen if I get something wrong.

Forty-Three. Forty-Four. Forty-Five. Why did I look, why did I start, why can't I stop? I have to stop, I need to.

Forty-Six. Forty-Seven. My eyes are drooping and exhaustion hits me in waves, I think I'm up to Forty-Eight. Forty-Nine? Forty-Nine. Forty-Nine.

I blink at the clock and I somehow now that time is almost up but I have eleven numbers left and that's not enough time for everything that I still have to get through - but I can't stop because stopping means failure failure failure - can I start again? I promise I won't get it wrong next time I just need the chance to try again-

One. Just one more time, one more time and I will get it right and then I can sleep knowing that I did it: even if I am already so so so tired and I want to sleep now - one more time.

Two. Three. Four. Five.

This time it will be different, right?