He decided to write the most beautiful work he could write. As he put the pen back to where it should be, he realized that maybe it's time to rest, to break free from all the chains that immobilized him, to set himself away from all obstructions, to bring everything to what he think is right. He slept way too deep than any sleep. A flashback of memories and scenes in his life from his infancy - his first words, his first birthday, and his first smile; his pre-teenage years - his first callname, his first fight, and his first bruise; his adolescence - his first failure, his first addiction, and his first heartbreak; and in his pre-adulthood stage - his last of all the firsts. As he opened his eyes the only words he muttered are:
"I never thought opening my eyes is just the same when it's closed."
And 3 AM in the morning, all Hippocrates's servants came rushing in like his first audience for the exhibit.
YOU ARE READING
Overthink
AcakA collection of short stories and poems. Just that. Nothing else. Just her. No one else.
