Time Games

There wasn't much to look forward to at some point. Frail, weak and dying, the self was focused on inner destruction and outer torture.

The sandwich packet sits unopened in the fridge and days later ends up in the bin with patches of mould already on the bread. I frown at the thought of food wastage but I knew that that's what I had to do to get things my way. I put my hand to my face and felt the dry skin and the wrinkles which should not be there in youth.

There's a clutter of plates behind me.

It's my flatmate, preparing a plate of toast and baked beans (Heinz brand). I briskly walk out of the kitchen without a word to her and sigh at the thought of a conversation lost to my irrational fear of her toast and baked beans.

Time passes.






There isn't much time left. A friend calls me into a coffee shop. It is urgent. She tells me what she has to say. I break down.

Time stands still.

IVs and ECGs and "Ill...need help...ward in Farnham". This whole time, my friend holds my hand and tells me it will be alright. I don't believe her and I say "I hate you for doing this to me".

Time becomes irrelevant.

As I look out through the barred windows onto the hospital grounds, I think about how I never thought I'd be in this position - tagged and observed for 6 hours a day. I can smell roast potatos coming from the room next door. I want to cry. "They're undoing everything..." I look at the ward staff and see them gesturing me to come into the dining room. I sigh. "Their job is to undo everything."

Time is in sync with reality.

My coursework is beginning to pile up and it all feels too much. After weighing out my lunch of hummus and cucumber sticks (in grams) and counting the cherry tomatoes, I sit down in front of my laptop and begin to type away at my assignment:

The motivation of eating and hunger is supported by studies based on the set-point theory and settling-point theory. However, sufferers of certain disorders such as...

Time rewinds itself suddenly.

I slam the laptop shut and abandon my hummus, cucumber sticks and cherry tomatoes and punch the wall. I pick up my bag and decide I am going for a walk. As I leave the room, I feel my fist throbbing and my eyes tearing up.


Fuck memories.