Bite-size stories #1
In my dark room with naked walls, all I see is the light coming from my lamp. Of all day, the time I fear the most are those minutes right before I go to bed and try to sleep. It is the only time during the day where I am in complete silence.
No TV. No music. No Facebook. No futile conversations about what I should buy to wear next week. Nothing. Those minutes are purely shared between me and myself. In a world full of people I am the last person I want to be with. Right before I can sleep, I am faced with myself, the last obstacle before I can rest and start over in the next day, where I am perfectly fine, dead. The last quest, before I can forget everything. In those few minutes, all my actions, all my thoughts, all my insecurities, all my regrets, all my unrealistic dreams are shoved onto my face. My myself can be a bitch sometimes. And I am overwhelmed looking at my lamp, drugging me, envying an inanimate object which the only purpose is to light my path (if only). All this because I am cowardly successful not dealing with me when I’m awake. Little do I know that everything comes with a price tag.