Out of the corner of my eye I can see a broken clock hanging in the overwhelmingly decorated walls of my room. It stopped about 9 months ago, and it has given the same time (10:42) since then. The other day my mom entered my room for some reason and saw the clock "Why is it not working?" she asked.
I get the confusion. Probably not many people do this, but I like to surround myself with things that remind me of something. That clock in particular reminds me of the irony that even the most mundane things can adopt; it is after all, a broken clock, but it's always right twice a day at the same time. I somehow find that charming. Some days I even feel like that clock myself. Some days words are just not willing to come out of my mouth properly as to write them down into a piece of paper or to express them accurately to another human being, but there hasn't been a single day in my life in which I haven't been right at least twice a day, just like my clock.
There's something almost mystical about stuff like that; stuff that seems to have no purpose but actually has a great deal of it. I like thinking that things that might be useless could actually have a use when given to the right people; it creates a sense of hope for them, and also for the people that recieve them. I think this principle can also be applied to people; regardless of the amount of damage someone might think they have, or the amount of imperfections in someone's character, there's always someone out there who'll see through them, and realize the amazing person that lies underneath what appears to be a "useless" surface to the naked eye.
My clock reminds me of the hope I hold onto when I ask myself if someone will ever see me that way. Everytime I look at the time, I remember if I'm able to see what's behind that clock, someone will eventually be able to see what's behind me. I believe in soulmates and love at first sight and chivalry. Being someone who believes in stuff like that living in a world like this might sometimes feel like being a broken clock pointlessly hanging in a sixteen year-old's wall. I don't care what people might think, I might or might not be a broken clock, but I'm sure I'd rather be a broken clock that's at least right twice than being a regular clock with the time set incorrectly, and always end up being just a little bit off.