THE TORTURE

THE TORTURE

The torture! The crimson-bloodied face of gruesome! How I feel like dying, over and over again. If only time were not dispassionate to the yearnings of our solemn heart, how sleep seem so welcome even in unwelcome situations. I feel frustrated, regurgitating up from my heels to my crown. The painless agony I feel when she speaks; so slow….so sporadic…so disgruntled… inaudible. Please, time run! Run like the fiery invisible rushing wind. Maybe, this time I’ll appreciate your care for me. How I wish time was my best friend in this situation.

   Perhaps the invisible yet effective force of the BORING lecture has but one merit attached to it. It has heightened my sense of sensitivity. The two ladies (Abby and Desire) politely distracted the older guys seated beside me with their giggling and side comments, more like a conversation within the confines of a lecture. Amara looks so distracted by her BB touch, tapping the screen with her pink “white-like” long finger nails. How Ng is boldly resting her head backwards in a sleeping position right in front of the lecturer…My God! Won’t this lecture end? How also, Obasi seem to be the only person in the class paying attention, or is he pretending, or is it his numerous political strategies for another election which he is yet to win. How Stephen, our visually impaired musician is proudly bowing his head on his desk, joyously taking a nap.

There are about 70 students in the class and roughly 25 of them have their heads on their desks. Maybe they are distracted by their phones, or they feel my pain, but they have taken the easy way out.