Blaring violent smoke alarms have had the pleasure of reminding me twice in one week that I’m very capable of burning the house down for toasting tortillas.
I’m well aware that smoke alarms exist to prevent silent suffocating deaths from evil lurking fires but from my experience, smoke alarms relish in blatantly shaming me out, to everyone in the vicinity, that I may be a fire hazard.
Here’s something for you to note; chaos is beautiful. The mere thought of disaster, terrifying-twisted-trauma leaks a somber beauty.
Having experience working as anevents assistant and retail manager, most of my life is logistically maintained and ordered but I always secretly savour when something breaks away from my structured timetable; whether it’s sleeping through my alarm and being late to work or letting piles gather as my room gets messy.
Without chaos there isn’t harmony. Like without yin, there ain’t no yang.
So I leave with you the thought that somewhere among your nightmare, there is an ounce of bliss.