BUSTED

Home by 740pm from a 12-hour work. Must i say i've been so exhausted studying and doin the math for the spreader beam design that i have been tasked to finish today. Unfortunately, i still wasn't able to finish the design calculations come 7pm and the burden of not having any solid since breakfast has come across my stomach.

The debilitated me had come straight to my room and to my surprise, the bulb didn't light. I switched it off and switched on again to check that it wasn't just my imagination. And it really wasn't.

The bulb was busted already.

Funny how the things around me portray some aspects of my life. How many busted bulbs do i have inside? For the past few weeks, i haven't thought about things clearly. I move inside the darkest me, groping for some things to happen, performing some routines in the shadows. In my desire for light, i failed to recognize the darkness that enveloped my being.

I replaced the bulb with the used one from the dining. Will just replace it tomorrow, told my uncle. And as i pile the chairs in order for me to reach the ceiling, i again was asking myself how persistent have i tried to light some dark areas of my life. How many acts have i done to reach the ceiling and have those busted bulbs fixed.

Funny how the busted bulb made me look at some snippets of my life.

Darkness does make light bright.