In the morning I wake up disturbed and impatient, longing to realize the commercial, loving and insensitive world ahead of me.
Consolations work and i enter a deep reverie of immaculate memories peppered with a morbid trance and flustered by the tingling sweat on my back, while the chartered creeps slowly to its destination, not mine.
At work, I am sincere and entertaining. When I am not, I am insecure.
Having lunch is a delight. Afterwards, my stomach feels complete.
As I leave work, I tend to get impatient again. By this time, I become a sinner and look back at those olden days of living and glance at the ones, survival.
In the evening, I seldom control my temper. I shout.
And feel miserable at the end of the day, only to be lulled to sleep by a seemingly inconspicuous solace and only to be woken up at the middle of the night by haunting voices, a distant dream and an empty room...
A fragment within a Copy-Editor and Packaging producer, 21
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