By Mariam (twitter: @MHBazinga)





I open my eyes to the typical cycle of familiarity.






A 5-minute stare at the ceiling.


96 seconds for my feet to contact the ground.


17 steps to the bathroom.


47 strokes of synthetic bristles skirmish my teeth.


As the cold water splashes against my irritated skin, I feel hope.


I WISH.


I DREAM.


I DESIRE.


All of what is out of my reach.


I watch as the lifeless reflection stands, observant.


Finally, I break the silence.


Cascades of what seem to be pessimistic thoughts are suppressed by an expulsion of an estimated 0.750 L of fluid.


As a part of my daily routine, my uniformed attire hangs neatly in my cupboard. No sign of creasing or wrinkles is displayed.


I violently tug on the Oxford-cloth like cotton.


I AM MAD.


Only 8 steps closer to the dresser.


A Customary kit for screening an undesired face, lay costumed, ready for use.


I look past through the stalking eyes within the magnifying mirror.


3 layers of liquid foundation.


3 assorted concealers.


2 color correctors.


An extra coat of powder foundation, and as usual, a dust of translucent powder to wrap up the face masking procedure.


The unchanged typical technique, for good days at least.


Even the inconsistent irritation on my face, with its unpredictability is at least HABITUALLY predictable.


But as I battle ahead this rough stationary peak, I have to ruminate on what I’ll see when I stand at the uppermost summit.


I IMAGINE.


Another anticipated view?


No.


I will roar with thunder.


Triumph!


Victory!


Glee!


Bliss!


I ANTICIPATE.


I am enfolded by a placid tone of hope.


Ultimately, breaking the cycle.


The norm is well executed.


Everyday is distinctive.


Nothing is familiar.


I AM HAPPY.


Eyeing around, who’s going to heed to my grumble and boom?


Who’s going to share the elation?


Who’s going to thrash their chest from the thrill?


Who’s going to join me on my own quest?


Who’s going to enroll themselves?


Who’s going to breathe in ecstasy?


Who?


I’m not surprised.


This is a part of my routine.






Mariam. Let’s go. You’ll be late for school.


The consistent familiar voice.


I AM LATE.