Clockwork

Illustration by Audrey Jade Tenorio

Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Tick—

5 a.m.

I am jolted awake by my alarm clock. I should start preparing for work. As I shake the drowsiness away, something bubbles up in my chest. I don’t know what it is, and I am tempted to lie down longer to wonder but knowing is no use when I’m late. I make my bed, fold my blanket — two horizontal folds, two vertical folds —  then shower. “Today must be a wonderful day,” I think to myself. “Just like yesterday.”

——

The commute to work is the same as the day before. I sit on the front seat, put on my headphones, and the driver takes it as a signal to not start a conversation. Although, it’s not like anybody starts a conversation in this town. I played the only playlist in my library and I want to bob my head to the rhythm. I ignore it. Something bubbles up in my chest again, an urge to move, to sing along, to dance —

7:30 a.m.

I arrive to the office on time. “Time is gold,” this is what everyone in the community tells me. There was no use in breaking the pattern that has gotten me this far. I even used the right shampoo. Today must be a wonderful day.

I start the day’s by working on the reports for the companies I have worked with since who-knows-when. There’s a five-minute break in two-hour intervals which management  says increases productivity. I eat my lunch, packed and prepared from home. It is always the same, healthy and full of the necessary nutrients. I thank and smile at the girl who gives me coffee. Should I start a conversa— No. I suppress the bubbling sensation again. I need to finish everything on time. Today must be a wonderful day. I go back to work.

5 p.m.

The day passed by like a breeze. I turn off my computer precisely as my watch, and other watches across the office, beep repeatedly, signaling the end of the work day. Overtimes are not allowed in the office. I stand up, along with the other workers, and slowly trudge towards the exit. I give a nod to the officemates who are still arranging their desks, knowing they won’t last long in this town. People who cannot keep up have no place in a fast-paced world. I say good bye to the lady manning the front desk. I commute home, and I make sure to sit on the front seat.

The dinner I make is just as amazing as lunch , but lesser in amount — still with the same nutrients I need. After eating, I take another shower.  The bubbling sensation is back, but I control it before it can tell me what it wants me to do. There is no benefit in indulging in something that may backfire and cause me to lose everything I have worked so hard for. There are only a few more hours left in the day. Today must be a wonderful day.

I go to bed at just the right time after reading a book about success and time management . The book never gets old. I unfold my blanket, turn off the lights. The bubbling feeling threatens to overpower me just before the day ends. I restrain it with all my might.

Just like yesterday.

These days are an endless cycle.

Something is not right.

I am afraid.

I am afraid. I am afraid. I am afraid.

I lie down, close my eyes, think about how today is a wonderful a day. I do not notice when I fall asleep.

——

Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Tick—

5 a.m.

I should start preparing for work. Today must be a wonderful day.

Just like yesterday.