Alterations

The endless nights of knocking haven't slowed down, but a new instrument has been born to the neverending symphony of my life: the sound of harsh morning.

The sounds of drilling can be heard on the floor above me at the crack of dawn. Hammering, shuffling of feet, stomping, what is going on? My phone tells me it's seven o'clock in the morning, so I check it; the rays of the rising sun can be seen peeping through my curtains just as they are about to reach the horizon. Night breath stinks the room and I try to get another minute of shuteye.

Calm down, it's not going to be forever.

This time of year, does everyone in the building change their environment? Perhaps my new alarm clock sends me a message from the heavens that I need to change my sleeping habits. Gaslighting myself to assure that this will help me get better sleep helps my body clock accept this torture. Tossing and turning, trying to get the noise out of my head and its variations out of my soul, makes it feel like I'm getting less than six hours of sleep a night, not more than five. Vexing, I know. Some of you can't even function with anything less than eight. Some of you don't even get four. Me personally? My request is simple. I wish to greet my days with vigour and gusto, and not with a half-filled battery.

Tell yourself "It's within their rights."

Sleeping aids no longer work for me. I've utterly destroyed myself with it, and now it's mockingly laughing and saying "I told you so" with every attempt. If my building is undergoing so many changes, does this mean my life is about to undergo a similar transformation? Am I upholding the cultural norms? Is this is what it takes to be a functioning adult in the real world? I feel like my options for personal alterations are limited. Perhaps, deep down, free will wasn't part of God's divine plan. This might be his way of boasting it.

Put on a tune, drown out the noise.

Changing my life to conform to the ideals of liberty is pointless if freedom does not exist in the first place. To be truly free is a privilege I have yet to suffer. Is there anyone who knows what it means to be free in a world of consumerism driven by the hand of greed? With each new step forwards in the industrial revolution, the possibilities for my personal change become smaller. Changing my life has never been so constrained by social convention before. However, I'm still lying here, wishing for things to slow down. To put things on hold for the time being if I could. But that would be too much to ask; a shift in the divine plan. To coexist with others and consume, perhaps, was always the goal. We are not born with the ability to make our own choices. This, according to what I have been told, can only be purchased at a high price.

Maybe I'll talk to the neighbours upstairs in the morning. Perhaps they'll give me the answers that I search for.