Up all night listening to the tics of my watches, counting hundreds of sheep about to steal sleep, I can’t help but shiver at my compulsion. Last month I bought another watch without a second thought. I stacked it neatly in my cabinet as part of my collection. It was my 9th since I started my obsessive affair, and whenever I wear it, I have a sense of pride and triumph. I am excited, the lust that crept from my wrist towards the other limbs of my body resonates with the tick tock. But this is what happens when I come to meditate about my compulsion and its consequences, I have to ask, “Is it worth buying? Goodness gracious… I act like a mentally deranged follower uncaring about the truth.

     It’s a kind of armor or a shield. I would say, “I don’t care,” or “it doesn’t matter,” or simply, “it is my stress reliever”. It is how I like to answer my folly. It is how I protect myself from my very own reasoning like I do now, small and helpless. But the more I hide from the truth, the smaller and more helpless I become. I do care about my addiction. My budget really does matter.

     My condolence is directed towards my ATM which is grasping in hunger, and no extensive chest compression can restore it back to stability. Unless of course, I shed out my worldly desires and be contented of what I have now.

     I know I am not alone. Somehow though, that isn’t as comforting as I want it to be. It brings up more sleepless nights of wondering . . . could I have done something to change this? Could I have done something to stop this? Will I be able to confront my alter ego when my compulsive personality takes over?

     I haven’t thought about my obsessive and compulsive activities seriously. Only after checking my financial life vest was I able to realized that it has not fully ballooned as it should have. It dawned on me that I was blindly in love with the fleeting and worldly things, of shallow and temporary satisfactions. For that, I have to smile, bitterly.

     During this good and bad conscience imbroglio, I think of my sister, I am overwhelmed remembering how reasonable she is. She always kept her opinions about what matters most open, picking up an unfashionable jade over a flashy gold plated jewel. Her obsession were dirty soil, big engines, thick plywood and stainless steel while I fancied the exact opposite. Mine depreciates while hers rose up in value. She always reminds me though that if I continue living in shallow compulsion, I will end up running behind the clock. Always tailing behind but never going ahead.

    Oh, I didn’t start my write-up to talk about finances. I wanted to talk about my love and addiction to watches. But since I can’t help the detour, might as well fix my state of mental well-being. After all, I don’t want my ATM to starve for December. Though compulsion is at its peak with all the merriment of Christmas fever and the upcoming new year, I have to abstain and think what really matters.

<a href=””>Desire</a&gt;