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Pressure behind the walls




The sound of pounding returns, reverberating through the building's walls once more. The notes of fast-paced, loud hammering have become acquainted with the cacophony of distant noises from the highway at precisely the same hour, a few minutes past midnight. Another instrument in the night's symphony. Another thorn piercing into my temples. Another issue that I am unable to resolve. But I lay here, listening and thinking. I pay attention and ponder. This isn't the sound of a new table being set up, nor is it the sound of lovemaking. This is a primal experience. Something steady and noisy. Always on time, just like my principal, who policed in front of the school gates when I was late. What could it possibly be?


What could it possibly be?

The longer I lay awake, the deeper I allow the vibrations to dig under my skin. Burrowing, waiting to give birth to more thoughts that would take away my sleep; my sanity. Rattling bugs, crawling, exploring every inch of my body.


Pacing around the apartment brews anger within me, anger that I have nowhere to vent. No way to relieve pressure within me; closed lid, heating up, ready to explode.


When will this end?

I'd like to believe that whoever is pounding against the wall with such enthusiasm is doing some work of significance.

Maybe it's so important that they have to do it at midnight? Are their in-laws coming over tomorrow, but the wedding photos haven't been posted yet? Could my new neighbours have such difficulty feeling their foreheads that they have to test the density of the walls with their frontal constantly bone? A ritual of sorts perhaps, something gut-wrenching, with repeated motions of blunt force trauma.


As I lay awake, I try to reason with myself about what might have prompted my neighbour to lull me to sleep with the sounds of late-night pounding; a pounding that reciprocates from within me. If only they could hear my inner-demons pounding against the walls of my flesh prison. With each echoed bang, another response emerges from within me. I can only assume that with consistency, one of the walls will collapse, and I hope it isn't mine.



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