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(Created page with "I wake up to darkness; I might as well not have woken up, considering that closing your eyes has the same effect... I move the palm of my hands in vast circles and see only the outer edges; this makes me breathe out of my nose at the sight. The drone of the alarm continues as I blink and my eyesight begins to adjust to the dim glow in the room. I slam my hand out on the table next to me and silence the alarm. I try to fall back into the void of sleep, for those evanescen...") |
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I wake up to darkness; I might as well not have woken up, considering that closing your eyes has the same effect... I move the palm of my hands in vast circles and see only the outer edges; this makes me breathe out of my nose at the sight. The drone of the alarm continues as I blink and my eyesight begins to adjust to the dim glow in the room. I slam my hand out on the table next to me and silence the alarm. I try to fall back into the void of sleep, for those evanescent dreams had more of that substance—I
Yet I
So I raise my body in a slow motion and crack my back (I have to keep going...). I look around my room with its corroded walls, makeshift stands that you might call tables, and a TV that has a crack in the middle. I scratch my head and place my bare feet on the festering floor.
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The day begins. The whispers begin their sounds.
I start with the daily grind. I use the murky shower water that is centuries old to wash myself of
I put on my shoes and let in the cold air outside. I do not have to squint like I have to do in my dreams, for the clouds always made sure that the atmosphere was nothing but broken hues of the gray scale.
I hear a slight whisper that approves my going (very well, it says, carry on), and I move my feet over the threshold. A few steps forward, I turn around to get a quick reality check on my surroundings. I see my apartment all ravaged and bear, and the paint peeling off in a myriad of angels. The shingles of the roof are torn off, and I can see weeds going through the cracks of the apartment's foundation. The decimated glass of the window is the newest thing on the building, and even they were beginning to fade from their old splendor.
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Ah... the Dead Field: the place that I must always summarise for myself.
The Dead Field is a vast expanse of pale grass that connects the school to my apartment, and I use it to cut time on having to looking at anything near me. It is been there since the day I was born, if I recall.
The best part is that this field is the one with the most life for miles on end. It is the most fertile, and the most luxurious; though it was still not pleasant to the eyes. If it
I hear a whisper, and I move on from these reminicsent thoughts.
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All of this, like I said, has been that way for as long as I can remember the clouds being overhead.
You can call it a tragedy; it
just... "I".
All of it makes me think, really, and I stop in my tracks. I hear a whisper tell me to go on, but I ignore it. For the first time in quite sometime, I think of the burden that I have been going through. Contrary to the above romance, this "Tragedy World" anything but it. When I feel this burden, I think—and when I think, I become aware.
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And when I become aware, I see the world and become insane.
Yet even with those words, my mind continues to whirl. There, in that horrible moment, the world opened up through eyes that were not glaze—so sudden was that revelation of sight that I almost lost my balance; my mind now so clear that it was almost hazy.
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I was completely surprise at my sudden lack of apathy to my surrounding. There, in horror, I suddenly realized how overcast the clouds were—as if they were something from a dream that was turning into a reality. There, with glaze eyes wide open, I could hear the wind shriek like a woman running for her life—as if a man were chasing her down a hall. There, with trembling hands, I could see the grass fall flat as the shrieks, and a far off beating of thunder, grew louder. There, right there, I let go and let the elements take me in their torrential rainfall.
How many times I wish to let go and fall—to let my body go on the ground and disappear along with my soul. I would let the soft rain come in this world (as a man from a story once said), and lightly place their finger tips on me. I know, I make it sound like a nice little dream, but
I
Through this torment, I feel a wave of warmth blast me and push me away from those sounds and sites of the world. I grasped my heart and wavered in a place where time did not exist and yet motion did. I became dazed. Mind spinning... endlessly spinning... eternally spinning. Eventually, my legs unfroze and I fell over.
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