#1
I used to have this old watch. It was an antique pocket-watch with a fine, golden chain and clasp. I remember how after I'd had it maybe a year (two?), it started losing time. It was only a minute or two at first, but after a month or two it began losing almost exactly an hour by the evening (I would set it at 5:55 every morning; I never really minded having OCD, so there seemed to be no point in doping up). Soon it would be behind by three or four hours.

By then, I'd decided it needed a proper cleaning (who knew when it'd last been cleaned, it could have been ages ago). Plus, I'd inadvertently broken the little clasp. Now, I remember that the shop I'd taken it to was extra busy, so it was going to take a few weeks. Around that time (it was my 20th birthday), my dad got me a Girard-Perregaux Gyromatic wristwatch. It had an alligator band and everything (not to mention it didn't need winding). But after a few weeks, it was losing about an hour a day, just like the other watch. Over the next eight or so months, I began obsessively collecting, selling, and tinkering with dozens of watches of all sorts. My quest for perfect time keeping was in vain. Every watch, clock, and the like that found its way into my possession inexplicably lost time at an increasing rate. After the fourth or fifth one, I had the idea to compare how they were losing time relative to one another. I still remember getting odd looks as I would browse through records at Coconuts, wearing six or seven watches. I imagine I must've come off as an "eccentric personality", as my dad used to say.

By October of '98, all 13 of my watches were at least a year behind. It really became exceedingly difficult to keep track after a few weeks. There's really no telling how long it was. Anyway, I recall it being the week before Halloween, and I was going to ask Jen Adler to the dance. Considering it'd been three years since I'd had been on a date (if you could call two seventh graders going bowling with a group of friends a date), I was rather nervous. What if she said "no"? Somehow, I worked up the courage to ask, and (as if by some sort of miraculous accident) she said "Yes." I was thrilled, to say the least. Of course, I wasn't still wearing all of those watches; I can't imagine she'd have said yes if I was. No, I just kept them on my desk, ticking out of unison in a sort of beautiful way. Like some sort of polyrhythmic clock-shop.

About a week or so after the dance (Jen and I weren't really talking any more. It was sort of like we hadn't even met or become friends), my focus began getting really poor. I remember being all fidgety and hyper, sort of like little kids after too much soda. Anyway, it got to the point where the days just sort of blurred into each other. By then, my parents had had me seeing a doctor. Dr. Kaszowski. I think that's how it's spelled. Anyway, he diagnosed me with sever ADHD and OCD. I agreed to take meds for the ADHD, but I didn't want to be treated for the OCD. It had become a part of who I was. If that meant that I had to finish every drum beat I heard and trace the perimeter of the T.V. screen with my finger through the air, then so be it. Plus, I might've grown out of it when I got older. It seems a little hasty to prescribe heavy duty drugs to an eight year old.


*I'm not sure if I want to add to this or not. :/

EDIT: I cleaned up the capatlisation and split it into paragraphs.
Last edited by canvasDude at May 25, 2011,
#2
I have a piece of advice: use the enter button. A solid block of text is about as useful and intimidating as binary code on amphetamines.

The more editing work you put into your piece, chances are, others will be more willing to do the same.
#3
tl;dr
Paragraphs are wonderful things
You want some more seeneyj hate? WELL YOU CAN'T HAVE IT

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