My heart is like a broken clock today. Time is ticking, but it doesn't show the exact time. From the outside, everything seems fine—there are hands, a dial, and you can hear the ticking sound. But somewhere inside, there is a mess. Some hands move forward, some stop. Just like that, my days are ticking, but my mind seems stuck in one moment.
Time used to be simple. Morning means a new beginning; night means rest. Now the distinction between day and night is blurred. I get up in the morning, work, talk, and smile. Yet somewhere, an empty space remains. As if the smile doesn't come on time, the fatigue sets in before its time. Like a broken clock—everything is there, yet something is missing.
This breakdown didn't happen suddenly. It happened gradually. Small things that weren't received, words that weren't said, feelings that weren't understood—all of it, one day the spring inside the clock became loose. We don't understand it, because everything is still going well outside. People see it and say, “You’re fine.” I nod my head and say, “Yes.” But inside, time doesn’t pass properly.
A broken clock has a habit—it shows the same time over and over again. My mind is like that too. It keeps going back to some old moments. There are some things that are still stuck in my heart because they were not said. There are some people whose departure I couldn’t accept. So even though the mind moves forward, the heart stands back. This mismatch between the two thorns is the most painful.
Many times I blame myself. I wonder, do I think too much? Or do I tolerate too little? But honestly, a broken heart doesn’t mean weakness. It proves—I feel I live deeply. Even a broken clock used to run properly once. It takes time and experience to break it. So this breaking is also part of my life story.
Still, the problem arises when everyone wants me to show the right time. To not talk about pain, to not show fatigue. Society prefers proper watches—those that obey time and don’t question it. No one wants to hang a broken clock on the wall. But if someone comes a little closer and listens, they will understand—how many stories are hidden in the ticking sound of this broken clock.
Sometimes I think that this very breakage has taught me to stop. I used to run; now I walk. I used to want to fix everything; now I am learning to let go of some things. A broken clock understands the value of time—because it knows what happens when time is lost. I also now hold on to small moments. A cup of tea, a child's sleeping face, afternoon light—I seek peace in these.
Do all broken things have to be thrown away? No. Some things can be repaired. Some things are beautiful even when broken. My heart may not be completely fixed. Some of the needles may no longer work as before. Still, I am learning—to move at my own pace. I don't have to show time according to other people's clocks.
Today, my heart is like a broken clock, right? But it is still running. It has not stopped. Every tick tells me—I am alive. I am feeling. I am trying. Maybe one day the time will show correctly again. There's no harm in not showing it anymore. I just need to understand my time.
