3am
It’s funny how the fumes she makes fades so abruptly. The clock says it’s 2:45.. she still has 15 minutes left before her system shuts down. Her usual 70 wpm is now down to 20. All she can hear is the ticking of the clock, the buzz of the aircondition and the whirring of the fan. No one is up but her. She’s thinking of something. She wants to rest, but her mind won’t let her. It doesn’t get better. Things won’t change. Weeks have passed and things are still the same. Change is not the trend around here. She is usually passed out in the morning. It allows her to miss all the chaos of the people who loves matters of consequences. It gives her the freedom to be a child, to sleep most of the day and to dream about having a perfect life. She wakes up and she realizes that everything is just as they were before she goes to sleep. She never breaks down in front of anybody. Well, she does around people who knows that somehow she is still human. She cares. She still cares. But she wants people to think that she is as heartless as the others, that she is for some reason concerned about the figures and the consequences. But just like the others, she doesn’t do anything about it. She loathes the insane thought of going out to get some sun on her skin. She is something.
Yet, I don’t understand her sometimes. I’d like to think that she gets irrational when she tries to be rational. Her judgment are often safe. She plays her game as neutral as possible. She misleads people with her words. But that’s not a talent. Words can always be misleading. She is starting to tire as the clock strikes 5 minutes before her deadline. She loves beating deadlines. Just like now, she wins.
