The weather recently, particularly the winds, has not left me in the best shape. The pangs of sharp pains I usually feel towards the right of my chest when I get anxiety attacks have been triggered. My palpitations have been some sort of wild too. Also, insomnia has had a striking homecoming. Not that it ever left. It’s always been here.
The family physician visited twice since last week. I haven’t been to school in a week but I don’t think it makes any difference. No one ever notices the fragile miniature framework of a timid boy. So in my mind nothing has changed.
He thinks I only have a cold and I can’t argue with him because apparently he is a doctor. I hate titles. I really do. It gives people this false euphoria of being omniscient. Just the way the priest thinks he knows everything about your soul and the doctor, your body.
The elements are compounding. The heavens lay bare and naked with the fury of falling hell. Science is being dangerously challenged. And there, lying there in the corner is my dog, unshaken from tremors swimming through the earth unopposed and then there is me, lying bare in the sheets core, looking like an obsolete hearse pummeled with the devil’s anvils.
It is in this moment I realize how alone I am in this cold world. In a world full of people you can be alone. I am dazed by my thoughts, unable to cogitate clearly. This is not the first time I have felt this way if I am to be honest with you. The other time I was at an event for young people. I am not usually the type of person who wants to attend functions for the mere purpose of physical presence. That is not who I am. But this event had all the hallmark of excitement written all over it and even more so it was for young people.
So I was at this event with a lot of people from my school and it was supposed to be fun. There were these comedians who everyone thought were incredibly funny. And for the whole day they made excellent jokes which left everyone creasing at all corners with tears in their eyes. Everyone but me. Everyone was giggling and I just sat in the focus of the entire jamboree unbothered. A couple of years back I would have been the leading wolf orchestrating the enveloping laughter navigating through the entire area of the hall, disappearing gently into oblivion in the very heart of the city.
But two years later, today, I feel nothing. I am the king of pathos. I am stoic, stuck, deep in the sauce, lost in it, but the sauce has managed to not penetrate my unyielding cell wall. Diffusion has lost its clout and I have lost mine too, the power to generate good emotions, to feel things, to live and participate, I have lost it all.
Is it weird that I feel this empty? I believe if people can be full of excitement and life then they can be full of emptiness too.
When the happiness is gone and the will to live is now a person in the past, the void spaces still remain and emptiness without a choice of its own will have a new home to inhabit. This is all I can think about at this point. I don’t know if that makes any sense. I am always thinking things. But it strikes me that if there’s anyone who would understand the eccentricity of my discombobulated mind it would be you.
Yes, you, you who doesn’t even know me but have given me a chance to tell you who I am. Who I really am. I believe the best kinds of people are those who know nothing about you and who do not have to pretend to know everything. Ignorance is bliss, sometimes. Sometimes it is better to admit to not knowing things than to force smartness.
This is why I am never fully impressed with the priest and the physician. They always pretend to have answers to all problems. To say that is all they are would be munificent. But sometimes the best answer to a problem is to not have an answer at all. Then that is really okay. To admit to willful ignorance. That is admirably brave.
I am not impressed. Tell the physician that if you can. I am also not cold. And for a start, the priest does not know the present state of my soul. A cold unprecedented zephyr stirs the air.
I follow the traffic the sullen eyes of my dogs seem to generate. They go left to right and back to left again. It is a pattern. Everything on earth seems to have a pattern except my life. I need to go now. I hope I don’t wake up the next morning and if I do, I hope my memory is a forgotten past in my dreams. Till next time. I am depressed.