The Machinist

Sleep deprivation is the current theme these past three days. Paying off academic competence with procrastinating and slacking off is a dearly expensive, I must say. The 4 o'clock morning walk back home from the computer lab ritual is starting another end of semester syndrome. The level of serotonin in my body seems to reached it's peak thus disabling my resting period.

I miss the scent of my home. The aromatherapy calms me down without hesitation. It must somehow be a natural biological reaction since I've spent almost 17 years in that very same house. I inhale then exhale while falling into bed sensing another day has passed with glory.

As much as I want to sleep, I just can't.

I crave the sounds in my home. Faded voices heard from my room of complete sanctuary and loud ones in the living room. Their not the best melodies for your ear, but they pass through mine as music. Many sounds are available here and I've failed to recognize them as passion.

As much as I want to sleep, I just can't.

I long the sight depicting home. The white pastel colours of the walls and the furniture simple blend. Far for glamour and near towards grubbiness, it provided tears of joy for frightful nights.
I stare in silent and everything is a three fold utopian dream.

As much as I want to sleep, I just can't.

One year is enough. I'm going home.