Feeling: lonely
Listening to: Merril Bainbridge - Power of One
Reading/Watching: War of the Twins (it's like discovering the long-lost season to my favorite show. loveitloveit)

We lived in this apartment for weeks before we got the wall clock.

It's a simple clock, with a little black hub for the batteries, in the center of a glass pane with black numbers printed on it, and thin black hands spinning around. It's sort of elegant and utilitarian.

A few days ago, it fell off its tack and onto the ground (for unknown reasons; perhaps a tiny earthquake, a poltergeist, or simply the elephant-people living upstairs), and the face cracked, shattering in some places so that we were forced to throw it away.

Now every time I look in that direction, there is no clock. It's a perfectly inoffensive wall, but it is so large and humiliated without its decoration. Before the clock, the open white sheetrock was unremarkable. Now it seems to glare across the room, too empty in the absence of that little round black trinket.

I'm almost resentful, almost wishing there had never been a clock, so that I wouldn't miss it every time I looked at the blank wall. So that I wouldn't have grown to depend on it, to a degree that when I walk in the door, I look to that useless wall instead of checking my own wristwatch.

I won't go into its metaphor, and the way I came home tonight from a perfectly happy and satisfying day, to feel the absence of something else I never wanted nor needed for the first twenty-one years-and-nine-months of my life. Suddenly, not having him for six days is like a gopher tunnel down the middle of my contentment. It's pathetic and silly and I want it to stop.

Oh, and Nimsay left today. Have fun in Spain, roomie.

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