9/1/17 10:45 pm - Sunday, 27th August 2017 @ 1938 hrs
His vision had begun to deteriorate long before he sat in the briefing room of the medical centre, penning his thoughts in a black notebook with a picture of himself with his grandmother on the first page. Use of his swollen and reddened eyes had been put on hold an hour earlier as he lay on the crumpled blue sheets that limply wrapped the lone mattress in the middle of the room surrounded by a fortress of ugly orange chairs, dreaming about classrooms and imaginary people named Elaine Foo and a panel giving him ratings based on his looks and personality.
These dreams were a strange relief to the sorrow and uneasiness he felt every waking minute since his eyes had been infected with the sores. The veins bulged and stretched his eyes, making them seem to pop out of their sockets, causing him much discomfort. The slimy discharge could be seen long after he had wiped them from his eyes using his sleeves, a whitish residue resembling mucus. His eyelids weld shut each time he slept and required flexing when he woke, a distinct cracking sound when he forced them open with his fingers. It was an unpleasant feeling he certainly did not welcome.
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