“At one magical instant in your early childhood, the page of a book—that string of confused, alien ciphers—shivered into meaning. Words spoke to you, gave up their secrets; at that moment, whole universes opened. You became, irrevocably, a reader.” –Alberto Manguel

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Thursday, March 5, 2015


“I was tired and longed to go home and cover myself with a layer of blanket and fall asleep. I had this longed craving like some of us get mid-night cravings for something sweet. I had a bad day, I wanted to eat something delicious and surprise my taste buds and listen to a nice song and get back to normal. For some time I wished if it hasn't rained –I’d walked my way back home, under the starlit night. It rained that day, and I hate getting wet like am allergic to cold and wet. Sleeplessness occupied me as water occupies a piece of land; island is the word for it. A day never seemed this long, I used to be always busy doing something, if not then planning to do something. Time and I never had a great relationship; we were in on-off kinda relationship. I blamed time multiple times for not being in my favor, and assumed what if there was no time in existence. What if there’s a universe out of my little knowledge that is not ruled by time. I wonder how sometimes small things annoy me –how not finding another pair of socks irritates me, how wind messing up my hair annoys me, how sleeplessness and failed attempts to sleep makes me feel like giving up, how struggling to unwrap a chips packet or candy cover tempts me more to have it, how people not answering phone makes me delete their contact, how waiting kills my patience. I always had a belief that –a good sleep and nice food can comfort much to get back to normal; that belief faded a little though. I wish there was a sandman at my door all the time I wished for nice sleep and had a nightmare.” 

For all the bad things that happened;
good ones were never enough at all,
I was stubborn like a fat kid;
whom biggest piece of cake looks small.

Nothing seems to satisfy;
when insomnia hits a little deep,
and when you are tired of trying;
it makes you silently weep.

I wished there was a sandman;
an angel to sing me to sleep,
some best things to dream about;
and some promises to keep.

Am I asking too much;
or my best is never enough?
all my failed attempts;
proved it is gonna be tough.

Loosing hopes in smokes;
in despair I lie,
adding another failed attempt;
tell me what does it signify?

I wished there was a sandman;
for they say sleep is a cure,
is this a disease?
am so sure to be unsure.

© Shreya ♥

P.S. My creation, please do not copy | Copyright © Protected | Image: Google

P.P.S. Work Of Fiction!


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