The mad hatter’s words; ‘if I had a world of my own, everything would be nonsense, nothing would be what it is because everything would be what it isn’t and contrary wise what it is it wouldn’t be, and what it wouldn’t be, it would.’ 

As I lie here awaiting for sunrise to notify me of my insomnia, I hum a random tune. One with the softness of Alice's foolish footsteps as she will soon spiral down into that rabbit hole. Maybe, in some way, sleep deprivation has cause me to be mental. My mannerism a disruption of priorities. Still the sun will rise. The sun shall set. This endless cycle of day and night that nonchalantly goes along with the ticking of the clock on the wall. At what point is this enough? At what point do we stop questioning the possibilities of what if and finally do something for a shot at one good win. 

When the first few rays shines through the worn out curtains of this crappy apartment, I get up. With many doubts in my head with regards to breathing, I take sure steps into my bathroom. Why? Because Mrs Chong will whip my if I am late. Simple.

So now, I stand in the shower. Letting the water run down my tiny frame, I feel the need to get clean. To rid myself of the sins that I too often accumulate. Upon washing up, I stepped out and looked at the dark circles of the girl in the mirror. 

'And who are you.' I asked. 

Silence.

I heaved a sigh, got dressed and headed to the dining table. My mother had already placed the essentials on the table. A wrapped sandwhich, an envelope of cash worth approximately 250 for the week and , of course, her missing presence. I took the sandwhich and ignored the cash. Today is Monday, indeed.

As I ate the sandwhich prepared with the act of fulfilling obligation, a flush was heard. My father walked out with a grunt. His every morning dump settled and flushed. He took his usual seat opposite me, discarded the foil and begin eating his mixed grain rice, fried egg and seaweed soup. 

I hear about yesterday's football match. How Swansea had excelled. How we should have intense national pride over Ki Sung Yueng's impressive performance against those overpaid foreigners. I guess he forgot that Mr Ki was a Korean national playing on the foreign soil of England as well as the fact that his salary was a hefty sum too. Instead of rebutting, I ate. 

Finished, he bookmark himself at explaining what wrong with our government. I did a bow, excusing myself from the table. 'Do you need me to send you?' he asks with absolutely no micro movements of lifting his fat off the chair. I shake my head. 'Nope. There are direct buses.' I replied as I had proceeded on with wearing my converse. 'Lock the door.' He says then took a large slurp of the soup Mother had made with 'love'. The door closes. The locked clicked into position.

While walking to the bus stop, I realised how big a mistake it was to have selected to conduct Monday morning lecture. I never had the enthusiasm for beginnings. Always a tad too impatient in wanting to know the ending. If I had it my way, I will make no distinctions of time. Simply make it light and night. Enforcing the rule of certainty, that we, living creatures of this world are just roaming on a circular premise. IF I had it my way. If only I had things my way, then all will be mad and no one will be sane. Without sanity, there will be no clarity. Without clarity, there will be no distinction about you and me. Without all that, there is no basis for judgement. And thus, I wouldn't need to carry the emotions of secrets solely in my one being.