The clock ticked, but time didn't seem to move. Even with the indication that the hands were moving across the numbers, time did not follow. I followed along the seconds, the ticking increasing in my head sounding amplified as if the whole room was just clock hands ticking and not the other sounds echoing throughout. The room was quite dull in comparison. Books having their pages gently shifted. Keys on keyboards chattering with fast finger strokes. The various words being carried out of mouths. None of that was heard. All those noises that could be loud to another, was being drowned out by the ticking of a clock. The clock held no answers for me. 

"If you died right now, no one would notice." 

"No one would care if you died." 

"No one would look over." 

The words sounded as a whisper, but somehow louder than ever in my ears. I ignored it. Ignored the oncoming threats. The taunts. The start of bickering that I wasn't prepared for. I turned my face to the floor, where the cracks in the tiles fit together smoothly. I noticed a tile that was out of place. I myself was like that tile. Out of place in the world. 

"Would you agree you deserve death?" 

"Or do you secretly think you're worth living?" 

"You're not valuable Aleks." 

"You never was." 

I looked around the room for a distraction, something in the room that was out of place. Something that could easily catch my eye. The clock's ticking was still echoing off the walls, despite my eyes averted away from the hands. Time moved slowly, it felt that way. It felt like I was disappearing, soon to be nothing but a particle floating in the atmosphere. Maybe that was just a fantasy. Lost in limbo to never be found. For my existence to not be wasted anymore.  

Distraction. 

The weather outside was cold, snow falling from the clouds above. You could see the sun poking itself through sometimes, fighting the overcast but losing the battle each time. Winter will always be the perfect metaphor for life. It's harsh, often unfair, and leaves you quite bitter. The snow is pretty though, fresh snow is beautiful, not the crap that gets ruined when it slightly melts. Something else that could be used as a life metaphor. Slush snow. 

"Worthless." 

I'm worthless. 

Everything is worthless. Not many things on the planet are truly worth something. It's all subjective. A console controller is worth something to someone. A diamond ring is often worth something, a symbol of an entire marriage or an overly expensive rock. There's art hanging on the rich's walls that are worth something, apparently. Value depends on your morals. Can you truly put value onto a living person? You're more valuable when you're buried than when you are breathing.  

"Will you believe that one day Aleks?" 

"Someday you'll admit that you're the only thing that isn't valuable." 

"No one values you." 

The clock's hands become distant. No longer ringing in my ears with each second moving. The world around me feels heavy and clouded, something dull. My hands feel cold but the wood they are sitting on isn't being picked up by my nerve endings. Everything is being drowned out by senses. Too much senses. Too little senses. Is anything really real anymore? 

Insanity. 

How do you speak up on something you feel internally. You're not sick. You look fine. But you can't explain how your eyes blink and suddenly everything looks different. More gray. More shadows. Less movement. Less reality. There's an itch in the back of your throat that doesn't leave until the world is no longer hazy. All you can think about is screaming but there's a voice that tells you to keep it in, all the while you lose any ability to move your limbs. You're frozen in what seems like a state of drifting. Do I exist? The only answer is that there's one thing in the room that is different. A face that wasn't there before. A shadowy wicked smile smirking your way, amused by your internal phase. 

How do you explain something like that? 

How could anyone possibly understand? 

It only lasts a few seconds. What feels like hours, lasts a few seconds before the world transitions back to a normalcy. It still feels off though. Nothing feels right. 

I'm almost relived when I hear the sound of hands ticking back the seconds of life. 

Insanity.