The usual mornings.

I remember writing this from random stories from random friends. And I remember their smiles, I remember the criticisms, I remember the anxiety and pain behind it all. The question was, what did I see in them…No, I didn’t see ‘sluts’ and ‘drunkards’. I saw broken. And I saw warriors.

When will the universe stop staring?

It has been one hell of a night. The stench of vomit and alcohol lingers on, street lights keep getting dimmer and dimmer. The night escapes away. I can see the sun now.

I am late.

I am light years away from looking presentable. Smudged eyeliner running down just above a slight bruise on my chin, a hickey, I think from God knows who.

I am on my way home, so early in the morning. I stride pass the busy students who have probably earned the bags under their eyes from the long night caressed under the weight of thousands worth of back-breaking books. I have had days when my muscles have given up from carrying these. I still carry them today.

I am late.

The morning just gets worse with drivers honking on, not giving a damn if they only miss me by the skin of my teeth. Has…

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