God created the universe in seven days, a fourteen year old took ten days to get constant water supply for her whole village and Noah built an ark in forty days. Soon after, time started tripling with Nelson Mandela, Martin Luther King, Mau Mau so on so forth. However, who said that it must take me decades to finish one degree?
Being held at one place for longer than expected has a way of fostering lunatics. Every day starts to look the same, time drags along excruciatingly; you can almost identify with the seconds. Monday and Saturday become analogous, the weekend seems longer than the week days put together. So much time is dispensed, with the to-do list exhausted one can only be passively crazy. It’s supposed to be a respite; freedom and zero responsibility. But once it kicks in, it can make you wish to kick the bucket.
Waking up to the morning rays filtering through my sheers, the then bright sun fades away by ten o’ clock. The clouds feud and cover the whole sky, hanging so low you could breathe them in. Light showers quickly escalates to a heavy storm, the sky opens and pours like a woman’s wrath. It resumes calm a little after six in the evening. A whole week of indoor activity, the brave hearted jostle with the aftermath to their destination. A burthen to those with an actual life to lead.
These times are bad. This weather is worse. Two weeks down the line you get accustomed to the schedule. You find yourself waiting for six evening to clock in then you go buy a few amenities for the next day. Tallying the scroll because these kind of days are like shillings and you can’t wait to turn them into notes.
Believe it or not, I have been here one week. But the way my mind is set up, I will have disintegrated by ten o’ clock tomorrow.