Thursday, June 9, 2011

Sun's Up, World's Dark

The world is so twisted
You wake up at 12 o’ clock in the afternoon. You roll down from the top bunk of your two-storey bed. You pee and feel free while trying to concentrate to aim right.

You go to the kitchen, try to find some food. You find breakfast thoughtfully left by your mom for you. You ignore it.
You don’t like the fact that anyone wants to be nice to you. It makes your insides hollow.
A void.
You open the fridge. You take out the Appy Fizz bottle. You drink. You burp. You don’t like the taste. You take another swig.

You turn on the computer. Go online. Check if there is an update. An update to your status. The status of your admission in the college you want to go to. Or the college you think you want to go to.
No updates. You sigh.

You log into Facebook. You check useless updates made by useless people. You reply to dumbfuck queries made by dumbfucks. Jobless people try to talk to you. You try to evade. Attempt unsuccessful. You succumb to their demands. You reply. You’re sarcastic. Dry. They don’t get it. You ask the thin air for the umpteenth time, what the fuck is wrong with the world.
The thin air asks back, what the fuck is wrong with you.

You log out. You sit online for a couple of hours. And when you look back, you can’t recall what exactly you did in those two hours. You’re confused. Zombied.

All this time you ignore your brother. He’s in the background. He’s the songs that play at malls in the background. The songs you don’t register. He’s the conductor’s voice in a subway. The voice you can’t make out. His presence is not acknowledged by you. You’re evil.

Your mother comes back from work. Tries to fix you some food. You give in. Rather your hunger does. You eat. A little. She tries to talk. You go deaf. You’re a zombie remember.

You try to watch the television. You’re amazed at how idiotic the box really is. You put on a news channel. It takes you half an hour to realize that you have not been provided by any news of note. You channel surf. You quit.

You get on your bed. Doze off.

You wake up to vibrations. It’s your phone. So many missed calls. So many texts. You don’t care to check.
You get up. It’s the evening.  You walk around. You want to kill. Maybe. Destroy. Kill. And then some more. You’re expressionless.

You notice your father is back home. Another zombie. Root of all the problems. Or so you like to think. You nod at him, he nods back.

You stare at the mirror. That liar. You haven’t shaved in a week. Your hair is perpetually messed. Your white shirt is not so white. You ask the mirror if you’ve been wearing your clothes for a long time. The mirror just stares back. You walk away.

You pick up the phone. A few names jump in your head. Should you call? You put the phone down. Opening your mouth to speak seems a mighty task. Thinking of words to say seems Herculean.

You think of how things could have been. How they were meant to be. What’s gonna happen next. You stop thinking.

You're thinking about some girl.. Stop. It's irritating.
The wall in between has to stand. Opposite sides.

You spend the next few hours watching movies on your laptop, eating this and that and just being a soulless corpse. You hear the birds chirp or whatever sound that is. You look out of your room.

The sun’s come up. But your world is dark.

It’s time to sleep.