The Art Of Ruining My Precious Life


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For a minute, the house was hushed! He left, like all the others did. Like all the others will. It didn’t hurt, It doesn’t hurt anymore. There’s no emotion, no joy, no exuberance. Not a single tear nor pro-activity to appeal occurs to my mind. I am the one that gets to stay in the room alongside the elephant. 

For a minute, the tumble dryer starts to run. It pounds and turns, the clamour fills the house. I’m not afraid anymore. The booming noise lets me know I’m alive. The booming noise matches my thoughts like black and beige do. There’s a war inside my head, a constant battle, a firework display.

For a minute, I think about making plans with the humans I know. Grandma used to say I wasn’t normal, I needed to make friends. So I try to make plans, I write the texts but rarely press ‘send’. I don’t want to go but I know I should want to go. My so-called friends rarely invite me anyway. Ironically, that leaves me mad. Still, I know I wouldn’t be present if they did.

For a minute, I calculate my life. I’m so good at putting the mask on, been doing it for as long as I can remember. It works like a blackout veil. It is all about transpiring confidence and happiness. Everybody wears the mask but how long will it last?

For a minute, I stand in front of it from across the road. It is my 5 pm interview. This is big, not everybody gets to chat with these patrons. If only I could cross this road. Anxiety is holding me hostage. The lights turn green, then red, then green again. It is 5:02 pm now. I begin to sweat and counting reasons for not showing up, like sheep. By 5:06 pm, I’m walking back home. 

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For a minute, while walking home I contemplate how deteriorating and self-destructive my spirit is. I withdraw myself from the streets and get home. I won’t study, I don’t like what I’m studying. I won’t practise for my driving theory test, I can’t afford a car. I won’t cook, I forgot to buy food. I shouldn’t spend time exercising, I need to study. The cycle repeats itself over and over again and I keep on counting reasons to not move on with this thing some call life.

For a minute, I listen to the war inside my head, the constant battle, the firework display. A pounding sound interrupts. My heart beats. I haven’t lost it, yet.

Ruben

2 Comments

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  1. Good to know I’m not alone. That means you’re not either, same boat, same shit. Same complicated and fucked up minds, feelings and thoughts. Maybe ’cause we grew up together, idk. Maybe that’s what this home does to us. Those who doesn’t fit in.

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