The Spinning of the Fan...

It is the fan I tell you...The fan, with its wings moving round and round in a haunting rhythm. The fan with its disturbing, unpleasant noise causing the atmosphere to become eerie and causing a chill to run down my spine. Yes, I am sure it’s the fan. Somehow, the fan has always been a symbol of depression for me. The rotation of its wings reminds of the merry-go-round that I fell of as a child. It brings to my mind, the awful memory of the bicycle that I once rode, the rotating wheels of which got out of control, causing me to fall straight into a thorny bush Lying in my bed, on a hot summer afternoon, I stare unwillingly at the detested object, for although I dislike it, yet there is some strange attraction in its spinning. It is like the urge to rebel, even though you know that doing so will only get u in trouble. And it is on such summer afternoon's that my soul, with its eyes shut tight, spins along with the rhythm of the fan and opens those eyes only when it has stepped into a dark corner of the past. A corner where I keep the unpleasant memories of the bygone days. A corner where there is a broken heart, an expression that clearly spells out words like "PAIN" and "BETRAYAL", a lost friendship, a dead ambition and a relationship that never was. Lying around are the pieces of shattered dreams and broken trust. My soul knows better than to collect these pieces and put them together again, for they are the ruins of the past, dead and lifeless and we have to live in the present. We have to move on. But if I really have to then why am I holding on to these memories of the yesterday? Why does my soul still spin into the past? Why doesn't the spinning of the fan stop to haunt me? Because it isn't the fan, a voice inside me says, “It is you. It always was you and it always will be."