I am watching the moon being shadowed with my life...
I took out my blanket and in this January cold, covered myself with it. No matter what the weather is, I always switch on the fan. Don't know but the voice of the fan rotating gives me a sense of security. As soon I switch on the fan, I run to my bed and jump into my blanket and cover myself wholly with the blanket, so that the air should not be able to touch me. Lying on the bed I think how I am wasting my mum and dad's money on my worthless books (you see I don't read them) and I feel guilty how I wasted the whole thinking about crap. Damn, it's a bad feeling to think about the time I wasted the whole day.
Sleeping gives me hope, a hope which I tie to myself when I go to sleep. A hope that I will do good tommorrow. That I will be a changed person the next morning. Of course sleeping gives you a false sense of security and you also know that. But for people like me who have nothing except a beautiful and cursed sleep, it's a boon.
After my dreams comes the creeping sounds of the refrigirators, pages ruffling due to the force applied by the fan. I am mostly terrified due to these spooky sounds. I always check if there is a thief in the house even when I know that there's noone.
Next I try to clear the guilt from my mind, but who has ever succeeded in doing that. I tell my brain that sleeping is the most tension-free and the most tension-full time of the day, so try to go away from the damn tension. So with the guilt I reflect on the happy parts of my life, like thinking about the girl I love the most or something similar to that. It's a pleasure to think about it, my brain's elation it is. I just love that feeling. I start concentrating on the dark ceiling, not that I can see it but the position of my head is always at ninety degrees. Watching the dark room, I turn from one side to another very uneasily. But never able to get set on one position, still loving that elation and that moment.
But as I start enjoying that feeling, tiredness creeps over me and envelops me into sleep. A sleep which is broken by my mum every damned morning.
Good Night...
Sleeping time is the only owned time of a loser...
Friday, January 25, 2008
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1 comment:
Well written.. nights are a favourite for comtemplation. Yeah, I know about the part "A hope that I will do good tommorrow. That I will be a changed person the next morning."
But nothing of that sort really happens, does it? Same with me :)
Your writing is very innocent, truthful.. deep. Very likeable. Write on.
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