Following another lengthy, unfulfilling day at work I make the daily dash for the number 11, only to see it depart from stand C two minutes before schedule, which leaves me contemplating ending things right there as Go North East’s sheer incompetence now means I must endure the onerous 10B route.
After nearly an hour long journey via what seems like every conurbation in South Tyneside, I finally reach my destination and disembark. As you can probably imagine, I’m pretty much rock bottom at this juncture. However, I’m still hopeful the evening will improve and thankfully my low mood is lifted somewhat as in the distance I make out the dimmed lights of home radiating through the sitting room window, and for just a brief moment a warmth flows through me, like drinking a mug of Ovaltine before bed, or perhaps some alternative malty beverage you enjoyed as a 5 year old.
However, my mild contentment is merely a brief respite and as I walk through my front door I’m greeted by a collection of sounds that never fail to resonate deep within the most neurotic constitution of my psyche. The droney, repetitive tones envelop my entire being, and as I enter the sitting room I crumble to a shell of the man I once was. I’m back to square one, I’m scared of my own shadow, I’m Insecure, I’m agitated, I’m angry, I’m anxious. There’s no getting away from it, there’s no escape.
The sounds become louder, engulfing me like a thick fog and merging into one cloying calIfornian chorus. excruciatingly monotone with no substance, no meaning, no purpose. Just empty, repetitive noise. is it human? is it animal? is it machine? Maybe it’s all three. It feels like it’s coming through the walls, up through the floors and rattling my soul like caged mythical beast trying to break free. One thing is for certain, no amount selective serotonin reuptake inhibitor’s can combat this hell. I cover my ears and prey for it to all end. Will it ever end? Will I ever feel normal again? I wouldn’t wish this gluttonous band of soulless siblings on my worst enemy.
And then …. calm.
As quickly as the unrelenting ensemble arrived, it finally abates. The clouds lift, the warmth is back, the credits run, it’s over, ITS OVER! Silence has never sounded so sweet … but for how long?
Then I’m stricken by the realisation that we’re watching ‘BT On-Demand’ and there’s in-fact another 4 episodes of this purgatory to endure. This purely fleeting hiatus is but over and all I’ve have ahead of me this evening is the insular, unforgiving and wearisome prison of gloom known to the everyday man as ‘Keeping up with the Kardashian’s’.
images courtesy of: theguardian.com / buzzfeed.com