• It started with an Emotion…. Irony another Synonym for my life. Better yet it all started when I woke up today.


    I always perceived my alarm as the first thing to start the anxiety. What about it bothers me you might ask?
    All of it….
    Its bright blue shine, it’s the annoying sound it makes the fact that I have to hear the same damn tone everyday it agitates me. It hurts me like a current of electricity attacking my heart. Why don’t I change it... because I am afraid. Afraid that if I trash this one the next alarm clock would be a bigger irritation. The Devil you know is better than the devil you don’t know, well that’s what my father always said that… he was a good man but that is something I don’t want to remember, something I don’t want to recall. I turn the black alarm off before the bell rings at 4:15.
    I get up leaven my bed the way it is until I get home and sleep again.
    I hate this room.

    I leave to the kitchen and do what I always do, turn on the coffee machine. I already set everything up last night. The effect is better that way. It is more of an illusion then an effect, the illusion of happiness something I am completely far from.

    Isolated from it like it’s locked away, more like a barbed wire cage I can’t bust open but I can still see it, so close. Made of blaspheme, skeptiscm, and disgust. If only the blinds were up and this façade were over with… I wish even I can see how I truly am. As I ask why I think too much I noticed that standing here asking myself questions is not going to help. Wait I am not standing but walking. I try to recall why I’m walking but it is over washed with a feeling of Déjà vu.
    Stupid intuition….
    I remember my destination the bathroom.
    I open the door and the lights turn on.
    By itself.
    Did I imagine it? Better yet why do I feel like it all has happen before.
    I turn on the sink.
    I wash my face, it helps me. I forget about my life with the warm water, it’s Bliss. Do I know how bliss feels? Does anyone else think like this? I discard that thought to grasp the scratchy towel. As I dry my face I wonder why. Why do I have such a tedious life? Why do I Live in a crappy apartment with one couch, two windows and water stains on the ceiling. Why is it that my Life seems like Death, I lie its more like slow death with no climax. I stop cleaning my face and stare into the mirror.

    My Face!!!
    I grip my chest so my heart doesn’t melt.
    The man I see is not me, but looks like me, No he is in even more misery.
    His face aches and with eyes as a captive animal I feel his pain but still bestow my pity for his agony and distress.
    His eyes roll white and the mirror cracks to three.


    I wake up again.