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Let the record show the starting time of documentation is 11:23 p.m. My location is my home in the town of Perry.
Today, like many other days, exhaustion lays curse to my head in the form of a clear film of sandpaper that coats my eyes. Although sometimes I can manage to focus on other things, such as writing memos, I can hardly adjust my field of vision without my dry eyelids scraping the delicate tissue. A pressure can be felt from the base of my neck, up and under my mind and out again through the narrow bridge of my nose.
I don't like to think on my nose for too long, least shameful memories of childhood stupidity rear there ugly head. A fight started for foolish reasons... I couldn't stand up to the worst beast, let alone the three of them. One wrong word, and they all had no problem knocking me into a feathered rescue bed. Off I went to the emergency room to tend my swollen face. The police once again fail to protect or serve those without money, as there loyalty is driven by greed. A false sense of respect, guided by a falser sense of importance.
Money is only referred to as, "The Root of All Evil" because of how difficult it is to actually visualize the real reason money is to be feared. Money is, in fact, the largest lie mankind has ever told itself.
Regardless time continues to pass, as my deadline is midnight. Though I secretly promise myself that I wish to finish sooner, as I check my progress a fear that this may be an unrealistic goal rises in my chest. It is a heavy fear, but present in light pretenses. I can feel it weigh in my heart, occasionally splash the edges of my cranium, swill around with my thoughts and drop back into my chest. The movement feels like slow breathing or relaxing waves rolling across a beach. I can visualize it without closing my eyes. I can hear the mighty rolling waves sweep brush and debris across a sandy shore, the same sand that plagues my eyes. The sounds of seagulls can be heard ringing in my room as stars and pale moonlight illuminate the vision. Breathtaking. I find these thoughts to have flown beautifully on to paper, as I type much without looking.
The thoughts feel like grains of sand in my head, but when put into words, like with an oyster, those grains become beautiful smooth and soothing pink pearls.
As my moment of mental peace and relaxation roles away with the tide, I can feel how it parched the sand beneath my bead and left my feet to dry in the cold night. My hands brush the smooth keyboard at their own pace. There is no rush. We are calm, my hands and I. We only look back to moments before we started writing and smile. My hands are dry and thirsty from the water used to wash our face. A small seed of shame is discovered, as I almost refer to it as mine rather than ours. Normally, that would be incorrect, since we ARE only one person. However, if I went back to change it, I would feel like I was lying. And belive me, that would be the same thing as actually lying to you.
Memo ends at 12:02 p.m.
Garmethian · Tue Dec 18, 2012 @ 04:59am · 0 Comments |
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