Blinding

My curtain hangs crooked and loose in the center of a large and wide window pane. Its lateral sides not stretched far and wide for absolute shade - a design neither intentional, nor intelligibly fashioned. In the narrow passages, while indulging in the dreams of my slumber, the sun's bickering light tightly passing through. On a daily basis, it peeks to color my pale face yellow. I never wake to be blinded by its immensely insurmountable radiance, however.

Eyes firmly shut from reality, I await only the howl from downstairs - of my sister, at the top of her lungs, calling out my name. The familiar resonating cry of urgency rings me wake from dawn. Then I continue my journey to a more distant world. Standing lost, I shudder the first few steps out my door. It takes a few moments before sobering up from my daily recurring stupor, a self-inflicted sleep-induced coma. An overdose of it.

Once again acquainted with the arcane reality, I wrap myself around the blanket of safety, as if going back (to sleep). Awake, I ensconce myself in the niche of family: my only remnant of haven. As to events of daily life, I play the blind role, mute my hearing and tie my own tongue in avoidance of it. Then half the day ends; and I once again indulge in the dreams of my slumber while the star up above gleams its hopeful eye onto mine.