Camping †My Only Refuge :: Personal Narrative Writing

Camping – My Only Refuge Every night when I lie down to sleep, I can hear the continuous, buzzing echo of the day's residue. The cacophony of sound that gets trapped in my head all day long begins its slow release: the ringing of phones like calculated screams, the falling of fingers on key boards like pelting leaden raindrops, people barking orders at me as if they were the only masters I am obliged to serve. The faces of these monsters I see in my mindwarped and twisted, still yelling, demanding, screeching. They circle around and taunt me. It is guilt that makes it so my eyes are wide and bloodshot while my mind throbs and my body aches for sleep. I should stay awake longer. . .there is more I can accomplish, more work to be done. I can push myself just a little bit moreand I should. A go-getter wants more from herself than others expect, and the monsters are an ample challenge; they're insatiable. There is a fun house in my mind and all I want to do is sleep. Every day my alarm sounds, my eyes crack open. I throw the covers off and feel the surge of frigid air, tired and grumpy and cursing the day for its fast arrival. It seems as if I never slept...all my days are like those before them, separated only by the nightmares that mirror them. My body craves a shower but the clock on the wall says "No." I gather together the assignments that kept me up well past the change of day and hope they are as good as they seemed at 3:45 a.m. My stomach rumbles with indigestion from the 2 a.m. pepperoni and olive pizza. I grab a stale but clammy slice from the card board box on the floor and head out the door. This is the start that propels me into my day. By 7:30 am I am roaming the streets, video camera in hand, searching for the latest news. It is my job to pry into miserable people's lives to disclose the boring facts about their boring lives. And they get frustrated and angry with me? Deadline is 11:30, but my six-hour class marathon begins at 10:00; at best I'm allotted two and a half hours to film, script, and edit a news package for the class that will make or break me as a broadcast journalism major.