Sounds…a melee of sounds wake me from my slumber. Birds chirp, sounding strained, torn and sick. Somewhere through the window I hear drilling, a car honking, a doorbell ringing and a woman shouting. I pull my dog, towards me an bury my face into his warm fur and sigh, hoping to be welcomed back into that void called sleep.
An hour later I sit staring at the phone, while he sits curled up around my feet. I have received a meme; a bunch of girls pouting at the camera, and below that is a bunch of orangutans pouting at the camera. The text says, “Girls be like…”. And I respond “LOL” without even twitching my lips into a pretend smile.
I shift to FaceBook, JK Rowling has started a tweet storm against some self proclaimed liberal guy who called Theresa May a whore.
I like it. I mean, I long press the like icon without actually liking it.
A friend has posted an image of herself, holding a newborn baby, I like it too but I don’t think I really give a fuck about her newborn named Alia.
A woman was raped in an auto in Gurgaon, her 9-month-old baby strangled and thrown off the auto because she was crying too much. A surge of anger flares somewhere deep inside and I fervently search for the angry emoticon, religiously share the post with a status that says, “When will our country change…”
A BJP Leader thinks Momos need to be banned just like the beefban. I go to the comments section and think of something smart to write, I read the other comments, somehow the discussion has moved from Momos to Muslims, and I realize that I really can’t be bothered with this level of bigoted fuckery. It was not my fuckery to begin with anyway.
I switch to Instagram, and notice that my steaming hot plate of oats is no more steaming, nor hot, instead it has now turned into in to a hardened pudding that tastes like a sweet piece of shit.