Glass globe of a child

It can take only a day to render decades of effort in building a family to nothing.

Who doesn't desire to live in a house with no quarrels? Anyone back in their younger days would be very willingly to trade their most treasured toys for their parents to stop quarreling, but parents traded in a part of their kids' hearts and childhood instead.

To a child, the things and the people around them in their early years form their world. Their world is small, yet complete and serene. Very serene. But the pillars of their world waver, and pebbles and crumbs fall from the roof while the child witnesses his or her parents hammer the child's opaque, glass-enclosed world. A glass globe no longer. Destruction has always been an easy route. Yells, the sound waves are so capable of shaking the house in the heart, and all the items on the shelf come crashing onto the ground, that echoes and overpowers all the other sound waves. Soon that's all you hear.

I would have traded in a lot for quality time with my family. I wished my dad had done so.

There's no one to blame. There was just the integrity, sense of righteousness and self-control which he was devoid of. And they say it takes two hands to clap. Especially in a family, or even in a relationship. Perhaps this was where problems arose.

I played with water in the garden today. I wished my dad had been willing to share fun moments with us, I wished he had wanted to go on little adventures with us. I wished, but it never happened. An incomplete childhood is like a completed jigsaw puzzle with a piece missing.

There was a thorn, and as time passed the skin around it thickened.

I remember mentioning that to someone. A while ago.

Though, there's no use looking backwards. Repeatedly reading the first chapter of a story with an undesired ending wouldn't change anything, would it?

Just a raw thought.

Star-gazing

Star-gazing. It's quiet. Lying in a meadow of the outskirts with the scent of fresh soil as the cold breaths of air tickle your cheeks, the night sky, has its depth of black and unknown whirls of ocean blue leave you in curious wonders on how deep the sky is as if it was the ocean. Losing sense of where you are as your soul strolls relaxed and the cold air ventilating your void cavity, you gaze at the stars and play connect-the-dots for as long as gravity allows your eyelids to. Beautiful stars.

On random occasions, and often when you're caught off-guard, memories can be stars too. Stars that leave you staring at the ceiling as three o' clock comes in silence. Puffs of cold air that uncovers the dust and brushes your numbed pain receptors alive. Pangs of pain that get you so desperate to thwart them. You look around the room for something to end this session of dull pain so isolated in you, unreachable as though it had attained a depth of the night sky. The box of medicine contains nothing to help for a while. Arcoxia won't work. While you run in desperation in between wakefulness and slumber, you stare at the ceiling, blank. Utterly blank.

These days.

I hope the preparations for the next two, and also my last two, examinations will be normal. Enough spending the last four examinations like this.