This is getting hard. I think I’m losing myself; losing to the dark devil living inside me. He’s sailing me into nothingness. The productiveness… ah, the productiveness is all gone. The creativity, the flow, the charm—everything seems to have taken a back seat. This is even scarier than having my laptop smashed, my fingers chopped, and being confined in a cell. I’m straying on the same path I’ve travelled a million times: there’s little food for thought. He’s eating me up bit by bit, pulling me into things that are of little importance. I’m losing my focus, my meaning in life. It was my choice, my escape, my cowardice to have left the space vacant. I thought I could get away with an excuse. Oh, how wrong I was!
I feel like a hen in the grasp of a butcher writhing in agony, waiting for my throat to be sliced open. It’s cold, very cold. There’s not a single shred of cloth covering my body. It’s a shame I had never experienced before, not even when I was found guilty of stealing money in an assembly of a hundred students and teachers. The blood in my veins has thickened. The oxygen: They’re having a hard time climbing up to my brain. My eyelids seem heavy. They want to be rested, to be closed upon each other. Shall I free them from the pain?
“Don’t. Please don’t!” cries my heart.
I oblige. I can’t say ‘No’ to him… No, Never! I can’t debate him, I can’t reason with him. He’s been left broken many a time but is still standing strong with the soul. Oh, you’re a beauty! A true beauty of selflessness. So I force my eyes open. I know that this moment is short-lived but I endure the pain. I’ll fail, yes that I’m sure of! But I’ll make sure my journey gives someone hope. Struggle is all I’ve done throughout my life and struggle is what I’ll do to stay alive. My battle is against eventuality, and I’ll fight till the end.
And as my eyes go weary, my thoughts stride down the memory lane to the days when I was preparing for my Board papers. Waking up till late night—solving math problems while listening to the local FM channel—was a bliss I experience no more. The race against time, the continuous scratching of lines and letters, the world of supposition…. Where have they gone?
I remember cycling down my way to school and admiring the simplest things that I have lost sight of. We—my very dear friend with whom I’ve lost contact—rode on the mud and the asphalt, through the plains and the potholes, and the dust and the rains. We would race to a distance, challenge each other into riding with our hands behind our back. Oh, I never won anyway! The other times when I was alone, I’d see how many counts I could make without opening my eyes. “Oh, you shouldn’t try that!”
I’ve always looked for the motivation outside—into the movies, the books, the people around—but how foolish of me… I forgot to look inside! I find that I’m improving. It’s like the sums I solved into my solitary nights: the more I practise, the better I get. With every drop of ink, with each stroke of the keyboard, I get more power to seize the demon inside me. And sometimes my dear Mav, this is why I pull up my socks and breathe in the silence and serenity offered by the descending moon. Wanna join me for a walk?
In That Loop 