Broken Ship

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Sweeping Motions.”

Instead of bedroom or computer, I found my mind way messier than the two. I thought it would be just logical to say if your mind is shattered, so is your belongings. Fortunately, my old friend just gave me a visit yesterday so I had to clean up my room. It’s okay now but I don’t think that the same applies to this hive of odd ideas.

There were few masks I had to wear and somehow now I have a lot of them for each different people. I can’t meet anyone without them. I have to look like there is nothing, that my life is steady, my career is going fine, or even my plans are in motion. Now that I have to wear masks everyday, I’m starting to forget how I look like in the first place.

There were piles of papers I needed to read before I could write one or two letters but time was of the essence so I had to decide to put them away for some time. It turned out that some time meant years. They went dusty and forgotten as I had to go another way. Sometimes I wrote and read some of them. While being on it, duty called often and I had to put away my writing and reading aside. Before I knew it, I had forgotten what I had to read or write, or where I had been on that.

After years of planning and doing things too much in parallel, my room became what it had been until the day before yesterday. Papers in every corner, pile of books under mattress, stationery under table, medicine bag hanging around on the wall, suits behind the door, and several letters discovered under layers of clothes in wardrobe. You wouldn’t say that room was tidy, would you?

Now that my room has been cleaned, made up, I have begun to sort everything that has ever been inside this shattered mind. I need to put this one together before it makes my room breaks and becomes broken ship again. Even now, writing is really difficult.

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