Tick tock, goes the clock. When will it stop?
I’ve never been good at time. I’m the person who can’t estimate how much time has passed even with the sun visibly moving, the annoyed customer who signs the wrong date next to her signature and has to redo all the paperwork, the friend who is reliably unreliable when it comes to arriving punctually. I don’t like being this way, and I only have vague ideas on how to fix it. And besides, maybe I like being bad with time. At the very least, I’ve become all too comfortable in the skin.
I wasn’t always like this. I used to keep a calendar every year, from a young age. Eventually though, and I’m not sure how or when, I just stopped hanging one up on the wall. I preferred to let the days pass by on their own accord, without my conscious knowledge of it.
But you can’t reasonably live like that. Let me explain why. Have you ever heard the phrase “live each day like it’s your last”? It’s terrible advice, because most days aren’t your last. We are forced to live life in consideration of the next, which, honestly, is something I rather like. It’s not as if I look forward to each and every day, it’s just that we operate in such a lifestyle in which we will have many, many days to go.
What I mean is, I can’t live a life where I just let the days pass unconsciously and not plan for the next. Yet, I still do bad things. Sometimes, I just lie in bed all day, and I do think to myself “if today was my last day, who really cares that I went to class or if I sent those emails? I’d rather do what makes me happy, which is to sleep.” It’s such an ugly mindset, but it’s the skin I’m comfortable in. I believe I made a choice, and continue to make the choice, to be so terrible at time. It is not what I want. I want a conscious life where I consider each day to not be my last, or at the very least, don’t ever think in such a haphazard way. Shouldn’t each day be an investment into the next? If so, why am I up at 2AM writing this, rather than acting according to what the consequences for doing so will be tomorrow?
Being bad at time is perhaps my biggest flaw. My Kryptonite. If I was a superhero, and you, Reader, were the villain, the way to get to me would be just to say “I’m not going to destroy all of the city right now, but at approximately 9:00AM tomorrow, so come back then!” Such a specific measure would freak me out, and you would gain ultimate power because the person who was supposed to save the day slept in. Well, maybe she woke up, but she thought to herself, “if the world is ending today, then I deserve 5 more minutes.”
I’ve heard people say that if a person is late, that means they think whatever you’re doing is not important. I’m not sure I totally agree with this, but the point is that not being on time is an entirely selfish act, and that’s something I agree with.
So far, it seems like everything I’ve written is just me saying “look, I’m self aware!” I am, but it doesn’t mean anything. Honestly, I wish I was oblivious. If I was oblivious, I wouldn’t be so skilled at being apologetic and forthcoming when I miss a deadline. I wouldn’t be so careful and exhibit higher than needed excellence in other areas. Thus, I would prove to be exactly what I am–regular and lacking competence–and no one would give me responsibility. Even if they did, I wouldn’t take it because I wouldn’t estimate that I could change.
Let me expand on that, Reader. I pick up something because I estimate that I can change. That I will work harder to have a better grasp on time. I will care about this enough, that at least for this, I will be good at time.
It never happens though. I always fuck up. To be clear, it’s perfectly okay to fuck up sometimes, but it’s not okay to make it a trend.
I am terrified that as of recent, I may have taken on a certain amount of responsibility I simply don’t have the capacity for because of how bad I am at time. So, what does that mean? Should I quit? I’m scared and unsure.
I wrote in the beginning that I have “vague ideas” on how to fix my flaw. They’re vague because when I get down to it, the real fix is “sheer will.” I am not sure I have overcome anything so significant in my life with sheer will, but I don’t see another way, and, as I mentioned, I just can’t live like this.
There may be something deeper that has to be cured. I have to stop making up excuses. I have to stop having nothing in me. I have to stop being depressed.
There it is, isn’t it? The real skin I’m operating comfortably in: depression. My nemesis. I’ve tried different things on it, but deep down, I really don’t know. I don’t know how to fix it. I think I’m broken forever. At the least, I can’t imagine a life without this thick depression.
I began writing in this space as a means to document “recovery.” What recovery? It always comes back around to this.
When will it stop? Tick tock, tick tock.