“And who are you, the proud lord said, that I must bow so low? Only a cat of a different coat, that’s all the truth I know.” I wake up to a husky heroic voice chanting “The Rains Of Castamere”, and I instantly snooze the alarm and go back to sleep. For a while now, […]
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Rains Of Castamere

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“And who are you, the proud lord said, that I must bow so low? Only a cat of a different coat, that’s all the truth I know.”

I wake up to a husky heroic voice chanting “The Rains Of Castamere”, and I instantly snooze the alarm and go back to sleep. For a while now, this song blended in with my dreams, with my first hazy moments of the morning. Funny choice of music for an alarm tune, the reason I chose a song that is to immortalize the destruction of a “House Reyne” by some other House was beyond me; something that has to do with the mixture of power, challenge, defeat and the absurdity of it all, have captured me, and it just replays as a mantra in the back of my mind as soon as I hit my phone to discard it.

“In a coat of gold or a coat of red, a lion still has claws, And mine are long and sharp, my lord, as long and sharp as yours.”

I got out of bed, late as usual, and went on collecting my scattered clothes off the ground, if mom noticed the mess I would be in so much trouble, she’s been lecturing me enough as it is about me not acting as a grown up and I didn’t need any more of it, not 7 in the morning at least. Something was different these days, when I woke up, I was being more sensitive to the sounds around me, focusing on small gasps and huffs, loud grunge, it became very detectable for me, the sound of the air conditioning, the elevator going up and down in the building, the water droplets down the sink, the small squeaks of pets. I had a massive headache already, I held my hands close to my ear, and the sounds just wouldn’t go away.

The noise haunted me. It wouldn’t stop. It won’t stop.

As I got out, into the urban city streets, people were starting their day fresh and loud, vendors shouting for their goods, the construction workers already drilling in the middle of the street down my apartment, I stopped mid track, I shut out all other voices and held my gaze into the drill, I heard no sound but the loud concrete drill directly in front of me now.

The drill was digging deep, and I felt my insides were about to gush open, my nerves got on edge, blood thumping in my veins, looking around me, I started recollecting my voice, the sound of it playing in my mind, talking to me about the things I forcefully neglected this week. I didn’t want to hear it, nor think about it.

In the stillness of the moment, and as hard as I tried to focus on the voices, nothing would shut the screams inside, the loud thuds in my ears never distracted me from these voices, I lived in an internal chaos that no other sound could distract me from. I wanted to quiet the sounds, the noise inside. I couldn’t.

“And so he spoke, and so he spoke, that lord of Castamere, But now the rains weep o’er his hall, with no one there to hear. Yes now the rains weep o’er his hall, and not a soul to hear.”

 

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