the co-dependent clock

〰️ a short story on time scarcity

Lorna dreamed of more time with her partner: a clock that wouldn’t give her the time of day. She desperately held onto this picture of love that always swept between the winds of her fingers. Blowing away, she felt that time never wanted to caress her in the ways it truly could.

“I’ve come to the unruly conclusion that I have co-dependent patterns with Clock.” Lorna twiddles her thumbs, perched on a red velvet couch across from her therapist. This type of red felt itchy behind her computer-crunched neck. It was the type of red that felt too bold for any such place of purging your bloody thoughts and feelings. Perhaps in that manner, it was subconsciously perfect.

Silence emerged between Lorna’s brain -analyzing pieces of her relationship to time- while Ms.May (call me Juliet, she always says) suggests something that feels like a mindless TikTok scroll.

“Have you ever considered that Clock came into your existence to redefine your relationship to time itself?”

Today wasn’t the day for an inquiry such as this. No Juliet, I want to squeeze out as much time as possible. I’m 35 and I’m heavily dependent on a clock that only reminds me of the fleeting chance I get at this living thing.

“But what if time fails me again? What if I fail at time again?”

Lorna felt defeated once more- she was running out of time with Clock and felt squeezed herself. In an instant, she snaps back onto the couch of therapeutic blood & remembers she’s in a session.

“Lorna, it’s safe to release your pressure on time. Clock will always be ticking, but you are not Clock. You are Lorna. Your visions, goals, & aspirations do not have two mechanical hands, they have real human fleshy hands. Two hands that can hold a bird or make a terrible matcha if they could. These hands are not waiting on you to achieve something at a certain time or age. They want to actually hold you along the way.”

Irritated, Lorna mustered a passive smile across her willowed cheeks and left to make a terrible matcha, because she could.

Staring aimlessly out the snow-covered window, she did in fact make a watered-down matcha because she didn’t have the time to make a sexy tonic full of moon juice blends with sprouted almond milk. Ironically, time would have loved to hang out with her a little bit more.

Time would have loved to spend time cleaning up the spilled mushroom powder across the stripped counter. Time would have hugged her tightly when she spent the extra minute choosing the nice ceramic instead of the mug conveniently placed in the sink once more.

Time loves to spend time with you. Time has this silent desire to move at a slower pace, accompanying you with every (delightfully) wasted second. But Clock (the physical representation of time) will tell you you’re not fast enough. You’re not there yet. You’re behind. Oh, if only time could tell you it’s wildest wish to not rush at all.

Lorna has never seen the true intention of time. Her whole life, she felt like she was never enough, so she became an attached mechanical hand to the being she fell in desperate love with: Clock. Always following it closely and never (!) letting it surprise her. Her timeline became molded, crafted, and cultivated like a well-tuned watch. She never let it out of her sight, so she became the watcher of time.

A human watch, Lorna was.

Clock came home that evening, after a long day of not being able to keep up with himself. He looked jet-lagged from another repetitive cycle of waking, eating, working, driving, and returning to the pattern once more.

“I’m breaking up with time.”

Lorna was bewildered. Clock is divorcing his holy matrimony to time itself?

“I can’t do it anymore. I’ve held it together for as long as humankind has created me. I’m not designed to be on back-to-back Zoom calls or miss another night with friends from utter exhaustion of just keeping up on Instagram.”

“I want to come home with the joy of doing it all again tomorrow. My life ticking to what feels like an urgent email to a Black Friday sale. I’m tired, Lorna. I’m tired of trying to beat time.”

Clock kissed Lorna on the forehead, deleted his Gmail app, and decided to eat dinner by the fire instead of accompanying his phone.

They turned on a jazz record and for the first time in what felt like forever, spent quality time with one another.

That evening, Clock showed Lorna (possibly for the first time in their relationship), true love: time well spent.

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〰️

You don’t need to fall into a co-dependent relationship with a clock to feel like you’re reaping the most of your time. Let this short story give you the extra minute to spill the powder on the counter. To choose the delicate ceramic instead of the one in the sink because you can enjoy the luxury of washing another dish.

I have been co-dependent with time my whole life. And for what? To accelerate the idea that I’m getting “there” faster than I did a minute before? That I’m less worthy because I’m not where I want to be in this mere moment (that dissolves anyhow)?

This is my first time sharing a small fictional piece on my substack. I hope this gave you warmth.

xo

sierra

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