Diary of the victim

Diary of the victim

Day 4

I sucked in a frustrated breathe, biting down on the curse that lingered on the tips of my tongue. My legs were getting stiff, my stomach was grumbling and my buttocks cried in discomfort. I was stuck in a shed of night light looking for the bars of network that eluded my phone, I raced after the phantom we called service looking for its place of abode. In the most uncomfortable of places and the unfriendly of times, the elusive phantom decided to put a stop at the pavement before my room where my king mosquito’s dwelled.

Phone held aloft in a defying angle, I felt a sign of relief as the service bar counted two. Defiant and hungry for the internet I watched as the bumps on my skin grow living a map of red blisters to show their presence. Invincible in the night light they devoured with no hurry, singing words of enjoyment to my irritated ears I felt worse as time ticked. Cursing my luck, I watched losing patience as service trickled like a leaking tank into my phone. I stole glances at my poor skin as I was locked in a death gaze with the screen of my phone waiting animatedly for the rolling circles to stop.

Ignorant of my palatable plight, the service decided his surgeon at my location was over and so the bars on my phone blinked red. I felt my heart give, my eyes turning the same shade of red as my patience reached his peak. I rained limitless curse words until I felt I was just being foolish, as I was the only audience to my belligerent show of anger. I rolled my disappointment into a big breath and blew it out as a heavy breath, drowning my pain in hopeless belief that I will still overtake the despicable phantom who remains elusive since I couldn’t survive without its presence.

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Invincible to my angry clutches you prey on my addiction, riling my minds sanity. Tool of thieves, those who own you hoard you, taking money while breeding misery. Currency of the World Wide Web those who seek power, seek you. Born of privilege and for the vanity of man you do your job a little too well planting words of deceit and dependence on you. I remember the first time I bought of you, I was but an ecstatic youth captivated by the possibilities you held, now I have learnt the sting behind your honey.

Blindly I have given my time and comfort to the men in suites dressed in yellow, green and red. They took my money and still took of what I didn’t free give, I still search for what I paid for, looking to discover the answer I paid to get and the ecstasy I know dwells in the confines of the internet. Network I am but your latest victim, but unlike other oppressors I can’t help but seek after you and like every person who ever embarked on the quest to find your abode, I remain hopeful I will get the reward of my money.





Ismail Issa


Lover of Books, Writer, Digital Marketer and Tech gadget freak. My philosophy is simple "Plan, Pray and Be Patient".