It’s a balmy afternoon at work. The sun is high up and is playing tricks on the windowpane, splaying weird shadows on the floor. A patient walks aimlessly around the day space while the rest are too engrossed with the Mandarin series on TV. Rickety ceiling fans hum above offering minimal comfort as I dab a trail of sweat forming on my forehead.
‘You shouldn’t be doing this at work.’ my mind whispered to myself.
‘You’re not supposed to be writing right now. Focus!’
But obedience was never been a strength. So I indulged myself. Dark clouds start to loom on the horizon the same time I begin to notice myself staring blankly into nothingness. Recently, I’ve been catching myself doing it more often than usual. My head and chest feels heavy. Not heavy like the ones you get with an impending headache or worse a heart attack but it is heavy, just heavy.
Writing has always been a form of personal retreat. I found solace with pen and paper at a young age. Whenever I get overwhelmed with joy or any paining moment, the notion was to write everything down to make myself feel better. And like magic, everything will return to normal.
So I’ve been having the urge to write again as of late. My head is literally overran with thoughts. There’s too many of them and it feels like a whirlpool waiting to suck me in. The bigger problem is, I can’t put my finger on the right words to explain all of it. I know how it feels. It’s very palpable. Not only to myself but to everyone surrounding me to a point where they started asking if I’m okay and I would always drop the generic ‘I’m fine.’ Not because it is a lie. Well, to be honest, it is a lie. But mainly because I don’t really know how to explain the exact feeling that I have. But today was different. I suddenly had the words to describe everything. And like the heavy rain that was about to pour, the words came in droves. I had to write them down before they escape me.
The thing is, I feel nothing. The irony of it all, isn’t it? Despite the parade of thoughts that are threatening to explode, I feel empty. Marooned at sea being swayed by the waves like nothing. I’m starting to believe this is a byproduct of everything that is going through my mind, warped into this thing that I can’t seem to figure out. It makes me feel so aimless, to an extent that I don’t even know where to start. I feel vulnerable.. like, I could just crumble and break any minute. But when people expect so much from you to be headstrong, you have no chance to even ponder about anything.
It doesn’t help that I’m not the type who likes to share what he’s going through to anyone. I like to keep things to myself – always have. I don’t like the idea of relying so much on someone because it makes me feel like I’m just another hassle. So I remain quiet. And I’m good at being quiet. But I must admit, it gets too overwhelming sometimes. The hopelessness is consuming and I begin to thrive within the negativities. Consumed and muffled by all things bad, I start to feel myself shrink into something small. Every bit of light left will disappear and I become this person that I don’t even know. I am not the most optimistic person around, but I can still draw a bit of positivity somewhere. But even when that tad bit of light dissipates, I get scared to be honest. It’s funny to think that I employ myself in an industry where my sanity is forced to be always in checked because I am there to help people get better mentally. Another irony. But I guess, at the end of the day, everyone is still human including myself. And it is something I’m still struggling to figure out on a personal level.
I guess, what I’m trying to say is I’m not okay. And it is something that I need to deal or work a way around with.
The rain has started to pour hard. Slowly and then all once.
I hope it will end soon.
LES CONNAISSEURS 