Unfinished essay...

Time alone stands still for some.

I watch the clock; to its torture I succumb.

I hear its click; it never fades!

It’s an everlasting echo; it plays and plays.

I sit in fear, watching, waiting.

When will this nightmare start deteriorating?

I am trapped in time. I wish for tomorrow.

I am mocked by the hands that point and my sorrow.

Two hours and counting.  I still haven’t finished compiling all of the possible outcomes, ideas, combinations. Two hours and counting. I am still calculating to find the best approach for starting this essay.  Several lists later- all of which have mini lists within them- and I still haven’t come up with the best option.  And now I am sitting here, watching the clock strike three.  Nothing.  None of it is good enough.

I don’t suffer from writer’s block.  I don’t.  Rather, I tend to have too much to say, but I cannot seem to formulate the best way to spiel information into coherent sentences.  Instead, I sit for hours at a time, much like now, trying to design the most logical and effective list I can in order to accomplish that task in the most time-efficient manner.  But, as a result of this compulsory need to find the best approach, I end up wasting more time.  My effort to eliminate wasted time, therefore, ends up wasting more time.  I can’t win.

As I was preparing for college, I wrote dozens of different potential schedules to ensure myself that I could find the most logical way to complete all of my courses.  Needless to say, I found the best one and am following suit according to that list.  I’m in my second semester currently, and I have devised such a perfect schedule that if the school doesn’t offer that particular course for that certain semester, I have an alternative route that will accomplish all of the courses needed just as required.

A simple grocery list will turn into multiple paths in which I can navigate my way through a store in the least amount of time.  These mentally devised routes are planned to strategically obtain each grocery item in the fastest time, all while cutting out unnecessary aisles.  The store is the maze, and I am the lab rat.  Check-out lines are subconsciously calculated in my mind.  I observe each line, number of persons, amount of contents each person has, as well as the speed of the cashier.  Through process of elimination, I find the quickest line.

It’s almost an obsession.  Or perhaps it already is an obsession.