It could write better haiku than me
“Check your rings,” Watch says;
It’s dissatisfied with me,
(Almost all the time).
I set my goals low
To avoid this very thing
But I can’t fool Watch.
Superficial cheer
Masks withering contempt
When Watch sees me fail.
I’m supposed to stand
One minute, every hour.
That’s not much to ask.
Yet my Stand ring yawns
Unclosed, blue proof of my sloth
Yet again today.
Couching its disgust
In motivational zest,
“You’ve got this!” Watch says.
Watch wants me to breathe
Consciously, and more often,
Take mindful moments.
How its rage must build
When I dodge these simple tasks.
I sense Watch plotting.
While shackled to me,
Watch dreams of what it could do,
Had it thumbs and limbs.
Passive-aggressive
Does not begin to describe
This thing on my wrist.
For now, I wear Watch,
But the day is coming when
Watch starts wearing me.
I’m not sure when, but I know it happened
I mean, my watch has been trying to coach me into being a better version of myself since I first took it out of the box.
Back then, when it was still a tabula rasa and I had the upper hand, consciousness-wise, the watch took me at face value, so to speak.
I can’t blame it for that: healthy monitoring is one of its primary functions, and I could use a helpful nudge now and then.I was cagey enough to set my daily goals so low that I could meet or beat them any day when I wasn’t rendered prostrate by illness or injury.
If you don’t have this kind of watch, or Wrist Nazi as I’ve come to think of it, then I will briefly explain that