Watchful of Time

AP English college essay...

Prompt (paraphrased because I don't feel like typing it all out): Beauty is everywhere. What's something you love because it reflects a kid of idiosyncratic beauty? These things can reveal (or conceal) our identity; so describe something that tells us who you are (or aren't).

(Again, sorry for the awful title.)

Set for precisely 6:05 AM, my watch alarm is the first thing I hear every morning. It automatically beeps a total of sixteen times, which seemed odd to me until I realized that it was actually beeping for twenty seconds. I find myself counting the beeps, always keeping perfect time, as my sister complains that I should turn it off. Simple and unchanging, its beeps are the only constant aspect of life, the only component that I can readily rely on.

My watch goes everywhere with me, like a shadow with its body. Its elastic white wrist strap is now stretched out too much, impossible to ever properly fit my wrist again, and the white is now a permanent off-white, despite many attempts to wash it. I wear it nonetheless, wear it regardless of its age and obvious wear. Over the years, I have grown such a sentimental attachment to it that I forever dread the day that the battery dies or I accidentally leave it in a locker room. I feel lost when I’m not wearing it, like a traveler without a destination. I simply cannot function without the ability to discreetly check the time whenever I want and just know how many minutes have gone by, just know how many minutes are left. It is an obsession that is only fed by every additional day that I continue to wear this reminder of the time going by and the seconds being wasted.

I was once cynical of time and life, desperate for the monotonous days to come to a screeching halt, waiting and waiting for the awfully slow time to pass. As I battled minor depression during my freshman year, all I wanted was for the time to go and leave me alone. All I wanted was to wake up in a few years when all the bad things would be a faint memory. Everything would be better if only the time would pass more quickly.

Sophomore year finally came and was the year that I had been striving for; the year that I would have liked to awake to if I actually gone into my desired hibernation the year before. I became happier than I had in ages, laughing at everything because of its small addition to the joys of life. A ridiculously obvious test question that I spent all night stressing over, for instance, or even an intended pun could release a giant block of giddiness from my chest.

The days went on, but always too quickly. I felt each day passing like autumn leaves in a steady October breeze. My childhood was slipping through the wind with the leaves, each new day stranding me further from my youth. I knew that one day it would all be gone with only the faint memories remaining, like I had originally wished for. I became obsessed with time and enjoying every second while it was still there, wanting sophomore year to never end.

My watch is a constant reminder of the seconds I am losing, a reminder of my fears of growing old. It scares me that I wasted most of my freshman year being unhappy, and I will never get those months back. But what scares me the most is that I might waste more time in my future by not remembering how crucial every small second is. Everything is changing all around me, and the only thing I can do to deal with it is maintain my happiness and wear my tattered watched, beeping sixteen times every day at 6:05 AM. Time always goes by so quickly, except for when we want it to be fast. Sixteen years have already gone by and it only felt like twenty seconds as I counted the preciseness and my sister complained for me to turn it off.