Second Life

I deal in seconds. Not the seconds that come after firsts or those that follow already generous helpings, but those that measure the passage of time, degradation of life. My breaks at work are 15 minutes each. You shouldn’t clock back in more than 15 seconds before your time is up, and you’re late if you stay on break for more than 15 seconds after.

OK, I went on break at 12:57 and 30 seconds. I have to be back at 1:12 and 30 seconds, but I should leave the break room at 1:10 and 30 seconds. Wait, I have to get some water, don’t I? I better get up from my chair at 1:10 sharp, then.

Oh, dammit. One of my friends just walked in. It’s 1:08:17, and she likes to talk. I should stand up so she knows that I have to go soon, but I don’t want to do it just as she’s walking in, or she’ll think I’m trying to avoid her. Dammit, it’s 1:08:32; I’m just going to stand up. And she caught me. Fuck. And she has drama going on that she wants to tell me about.

Your roommate’s mom and sister did what? That’s fucking stupid. You don’t have to put up with that shit.

1:09:40. Time to walk over to the sink to get some water while listening, hoping that she’ll get the hint. 1:10:21 – a break in between sentences where I can tell her good luck and that I have to get back. I can’t stop glancing at my watch. This is ridiculous. Life is meant to be savored moment by moment, not counted down second by second. 1:12:30.

There’s so much more to life than this.