Clock Lock Works
Every day, I do the same thing. A routine that is now forever sketched into my mind, like a bad tape that keeps playing over and over again. Each day I leave the house, walk the same steps to the same train station, and head to work. I indefatigably work hard!
If I do the same thing each and every day then how am I to tell what day it is? I chase numbers 24/7 for some sign that today is not yesterday and for some hope that tomorrow will not be today. It doesn't seem to matter since no one cares anyway. Looking towards the sky I wonder about the people who are trying to change for someone, somewhere.
Deep inside my heart the door is locked but a gentle knock comes persistently from the other side.
"Don't be ridiculous!" I tell myself, ignoring the silent tears that rolled down my cheeks, "No one would ever love you. . . "
And so I turned my back on the ever persistent knocking,
"It doesn't matter because nothing will ever change in this routine life of mine." and let it go.
Looking at the hands of the forever stopped clock I began to feel a rush and ran out of my home. Looking at the stars I hope for this to all be a dream but if it is not then I'll. . . "Wish upon a star" and turn it into one.
Returning home I sat on the char and stared at the stopped clock, praying for the hands to move in the slightest bit, "Stupid soldiers of Time."
Standing up I point at accusing finger at the little clock, "Make a choice to move or remain still forever! Ready. Set. GO!"
But the clock hands never moved.
I crouched down and stared at my reflection in the clock; I could feel my mind being forcefully pulled into the darkest part of my soul, is there no hope for the hands of time to start moving again? If not, then how am I to ever get passed my forever frozen world?
If the world were to start moving backwards, thus changing morning into night, would anyone even care? Would they even notice?
Probably not, yet still I greedily chase the numbers that separate the day from the night, why must I be so selfish?
If no one else ever cares, then why must I?
From behind the locked door of my heart I hear voices. Talking. Laughing. Singing. These voices, these people behind the door, seem to be enjoying their lives. I reached for the handle of the door but my body froze in fear before I could even grasp it.
"I have no choice." I cannot leave the confinement of my routine, I cannot escape from this forever frozen time, and I cannot open the door of my heart.
Drawing my knees close, I quietly swore in the corner of the room, praying that a prince would come and take me away, I don't care where; just take me away from this horrid place.
But no prince will ever come.
"Good Evening. Good Morning." Came a gentle voice from behind the door, so low and musical it is.
Is he aware that that door will never be unlocked? That it will never open up to reveal the contents of my heart? For I am no princess, and a prince will not come for anything less.
"You don't need to unlock it."
Looking up at the door I asked a silent why bit my lips did not move, he chuckled slightly, a soothing sound to my lonely ears, "You can still hear my voice, can't you?"
I sat with my back to the door, assuming he was doing the same, and listened as he told me a story of a peasant girl forever trapped in a world with no time who, by her own power of will, escaped and ran off with the knight who stood on the other side of her door.
I don't want to hear such a happy story, about a girl exactly like I, it will give me hope that I too shall be saved, but I don't think I could take the heartache.
Yet, at the same time, I need to hear the story. To find out if there is a way to escape this place.
So please, don't stop telling it.
"We could get you out of there someday."
"Nonsense!" I say, pretending to lie with a voice as cold as ice. Can you tell it's not the truth? I wish you would notice it, but still you say nothing. This lie is too cold; I could not touch it forever. So please, melt my lie.
As my soul begins to fade into the deeper part of despair, my mind weakens and time continues to stand still.
I do not want to put this off as, "no big deal" for in my heart I know that nothing could ever matter more.
Once my mind begins to fade, the hands of time once again begin their passage, and a gentle knock on the door of my heart makes me cry.