Armor

i close my eyes as i finally sit down to write my entry today. when i close my eyes, i feel more in tune with my surroundings and i hear the constant clicking of my keyboard.

i also hear the banging of things outside my door, reverberating through my doors. i hear my cousin and her husband, ONCE AGAIN, fighting. one is screaming, the other one is crying. one is stubborn. the other one drunk. This is my life.

i try to close my ears to all the insults they throw to each other.. and my mind goes blank. i don’t know what to type next.

i wish fervently to be whisked away to my dreamland. not much to look at, really. just a quiet little place. a little downtown apartment where i can observe the hustle and bustle of the city, everywhere around me there would be people rushing to their work, frantically looking at their watches for TIME IS MONEY. every second counts. and my little flat? its intact. its serene and i am eating breakfast as slow as i could. dilly-dallying on my morning coffee, staring blankly at the comics section, and trying to figure out the crossword puzzle. who knows? i may be able to finish the puzzle for today.

i’m not quite sure but i heard somewhere that the eye of the storm is actually the most peaceful part of the storm. in its center is pure peace, and everywhere around it is complete chaos. if my definitions were correct, my place would be the eye of the storm. serene and intact amidst the obliterating storm around it.

I suddenly snap back to reality and I sigh. I wasn’t swept away to my never never land. If it would happen. I probably won’t go back anymore.

I try to think of the essence of my day is. Hmmm. I cleaned my room. Every little crook and nanny was vacuumed and polished. It looks immaculate. Besides this, my life was the same.

Don’t get me wrong. I am actually grateful of my life, happier when I act it out, but for some odd reason, when pressed into words, become slight deeper, darker than it’s supposed to be. Could it be that thinking filters away sunshine’s happiness?

I stop to get the last cigarette in my pack. After this, I have one pack of Winston Lights left. After than, I again have to adapt to British civilization. In my room and in the night, it is all quiet. I hear nothing but the constant tick-ticking of my Pooh alarm clock and the silent humming of my CPU. In my brain, just as always, I hear random thoughts begging to be put into paper, but my hands are too slow, they are too slow.

For now I shall try to sleep. And in honor of Shakespeare, perchance, to dream. Sleep is another way of telling me another day is done, get ready for the next. Hopefully tomorrow, I shall be armed better than today.

Author: angparaluman

a poster girl with no poster staying on the safe side of the road less traveled.

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