⒉𝘈 𝘚𝘢𝘧𝘦 𝘗𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦

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'When it feels like you are left behind, look for the people who stand by you.'

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Uhtceare- Lying awake before dawn and worrying.

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Pi was laying on his bed, tracing imaginary patterns on the ceiling. He had watched the three blades of the fan rotating continuously until he could make out their clear shapes.

The air circulating inside did nothing much than lightly brushing his hot skin to relief but not enough to appease him from thoughts filling his head. Quiet not enough by the way he felt sweat prickling around his neck. The collar of his shirt was slightly damp, his first mistake in not choosing to wear anything with a wider neck.

Crickets could be heard outside, loud, mixed with rustling wind that had knocked a pencil over the edge of his study table which went unnoticed.

There weren't many spots in his room he could stare at while trying to sleep. Other than roaming his eyes and remembering old times. When walls were empty, corners felt hollow and the bedroom looked lifeless.

Now pictures hang on walls in one corner right next to the poster of his favorite K-pop band, family photos, and some arts he did as a kid. There was a spot that was darker than others, he would usually stare at it until he drifted to sleep habitually. But that has been now covered with another wall frame.

He averted his eyes and mind to the rhythmic ticking of the second hand of the fancy wall clock, hoping the pattern would lull him to sleep.

Repetitive motions and actions calm his mind, which stimulates neural pathways, emotional balancing, and ease of movement. He had learned it from Science books.

These techniques worked excellent when his eyelids were heavy, his muscles tired, and his mind exhausted. The pain at the back of his eye could be smoothened by pouring cold rose water on circular cotton balls the size of his eyes and resting it over the tired eyelids and dark circles due to sleep deprivation until he snored. The chilled liquid relaxed his hot, red eyes. The addition of a cold, mint face mask over the withering face he usually applied made him feel more coolheaded.

But none worked today, his thought violently occupied. Getting used to a major change in his life. And the stash of face masks was spent, and so were the two bottles of rosewater he usually stored in his fridge.

The window was wide open with curtains tied to the side, a street lamp illuminating the dark atmosphere. Dogs howling occasionally to fill the silence between his deep signs.

He did not have to worry much about mosquitoes, the summer was one of the seasons they never disturbed him. Maybe they burned in the heatwaves, who knows. Bangkok heat was no joke, it felt like a dessert.

No nasty bachelor partying with loud music in the house two blocks away tonight. They usually played party songs shamelessly at night. People complained but who were they to listen. Pi would stuff his face in between the pillow and mattress with earplugs on.

Guess it was unlikely to have a sleep with loud buzzing and broken lyrics reaching his ears through the wall that he would frown upon in the middle of his half awake-ness, trying to figure out the song's name.

Sometimes even searched for his phone to type the distorted and rearranged words. Looking for their name because it sounded pleasant. Too good to miss oversleep.

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