I hate time.

The ticking of clocks, serving only to remind me that _my_ time is limited.

I'm indecisive.

How can one make a decision knowing that every move may be their last?

Tick, Tock.

When my time is nearing its end, who's to say I won't regret everything?

Fulfillment.

How can I be sure that I'm making the right choice?

Love.

I..—

I don't know what that is.

Tick. Tock.

Time doesn't wait for you.

The clock hands keep going, ignoring the way you're drowning.

Your arm reaches out of the water.

The silence drowns out the sound of your screams.

Tick Tock.

It's far too late.

You can't go back.

Where'd your childhood go?

You swear, it was just yesterday that you were 8, and—

And what? You really thought you'd remember?

Don't be silly.

Your memory's gone, just like your sense of self.

Who are you?

Do you ever remember your name anymore?

Tick.

Tock.