Wednesday, 19 November 2008

money can't buy this

Somewhere between the waking up and two dry Wheat-a-bix, the thought of a semi-normal day fails out of my head and explodes with the harsh reality of living with five brain dead morons.

Much of the day follows a usual pattern, with the exception that I am trying to avoid everyone I live with.On account that I can no longer be bothered; and my simple request for one night of unbroken sleep falls on deaf ears.

The promise of a cardio workout slips away and in an attempt to find some comfort in escape, I find myself on a bus heading across town. I arrive at a friends. I haven't seem him since I moved but already I know this is a chance to chill out, to be myself, my home self. The pleasure of a pressure-less environment is short lived and I find myself on the return journey home. Most of which is spent, not actually moving.

As I push the key into the door it appears that I have become quite the shadow. Breaking the silence I push over a stall covered in dirty plates, positioned at my door as some sort of epic revenge. The crashing a diversion as I slip into my room.

Pulling a collection of the designer clothes that I have acquired from the wardrobe they fall lifeless on the floor. Swapping my currently outfit for a pair of grey tracksuit bottoms, a grey polo (half the collar popped) and no shoes; the perfect backdrop for my tired, black-rimmed eyes. I bundle my clothes together,cradling them and descend six floors, to the wash room, the shock of the ice cobbles against my naked feet.

Realising that this area has also been invaded by the morons that I share my life with, I turn and exit as noticeably as I entered.

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