The best part of the day for me starts when the world outside the windows of my room slowly seems to erase out into some dark silence. It makes me feel as if a soldier struck with an arrow straight into his heart suddenly stopped mourning his pain with the inevitable belief of never seeing his family again, never touching his wife or his son back at home, and closing his eyes forever. This is about one night, one cold winter night. I had finished my dinner and was sitting in front of my computer. All the rooms except mine, were dark and … black. I had a tough day and was feeling really tired. I took out one of my old collections from my CD case. It was Kenny G’s best. It's been months since I heard this album. The reason is I’m afraid of this type of music. They pull out my true self. The weak, emotionally retarded self of mine. I hate him. But something, I don’t know was different on that night that made me indulge in this mistake again. Maybe some other weakness of mine. I opene
subconscious essays