Late night ramblings

I remember that during my childhood days, my late father always had the wall clock in his bedroom set five minutes ahead of the actual time, so that he could wake up a bit earlier in the morning and could avoid getting late for work. I never quite understood why on earth would he deceive himself like that, or should I say let himself be decived by an object of man's making like that, when at the back of his mind he should have always had the very fact that he had himself adjusted the clock so that it would tell the wrong time.

In restrospect, I think that's when I gave in to time. This act of him must have left the impression on my sub-conscious that we are supposed to let time enslave us, rule over us and deceive us to its heart's (whatever that is or is made of!) content. Had he had his clock set five minutes behind the actual time or hadn't messed with it at all, I would perhaps have stayed indifferent to it. And so, since then I have been time's puppet, forever keeping track of its every second, but never being able to make full use of my life that passes with that every second, due to the anxiety and stress that comes with the passing of that every second. I wear a watch on my wrist, can't do without a wall clock in my bedroom, and sleep with my cellphone right next to my pillow. And as if that isn't enough, I have Dali's 'persistence of memory' on the wall adjacent to my bed.