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Friday September 01, 2006

The sanity of it all.

I said: There's a new kind of fear within me. Can't exactly figure it out, can't detect the source. Almost indifferent, almost indescribable.

He said: What is it that you fear hun? Why all of a sudden..?

I said: In this life, I have never really feared anything. The fears that I had in the past were easily recognizable and the fact that those fears were recognizable made it a whole lot easier to either fuck it, or do something about it. Those fears were quickly demystified. This one now, it’s bothering me, causing malfunctions in my brain, flashes of white, and spots of black.

He said: Ah.. I wonder what you’re talking about. Don’t tell me; go write this in your journal.

I said: You are not listening. I was hoping you could help me demystify this fear. I think I’m scared at a certain point. Don’t know where though. Don’t even know what the fuck triggered this.

(Awkward silence)

He said: You okay? Why are you so quiet? Stop thinking about it.

At times, I really don’t understand the human mind. Stop thinking about it? Did I even mention the phrase “I think” in the first place? If I could stop THINKING about it, it would’ve been gone much earlier. I’m not thinking this, I’m feeling it. It’s there. I don’t have to friggin think about it. It’s poking me from all sides, and you expect me to ignore it? Later, I wrote in my journal: This fear is sending me a message; it feels like I’m dancing in the dark with an imaginary partner; allowing myself to dwell profoundly into the realm of fantasies and imagination. To allow that to take place is a form of self-detachment which is hard to snap out of.

Two weeks later, under the influence of average margarita and nostalgic jazz, I looked into his eyes and said, “IT’S still there. Maybe you’re right, I think too much, but what if it’s you who’s compressing your thoughts?” I instantly detected an “oh-no-not-that-conversation-again” look/frown on his countenance. An hour or so before that conversation, at the busy streets of weekend-KL, rushing down ogling eyes, I snapped and attempted to argue over chicken rice. I don’t know why, I just snapped. Maybe I was stressed, maybe I was tired. While we were halfway heading god knows where, I stopped and kinda yanked my hand off and said loudly above all the hullabaloo, “Baby, what the fuck is wrong with you? You’ve been selfish; you’ve been acting like you bloody don’t care about anything.”

I guess the look on my face and the tone of my voice must have caught him off guard and he quickly said, “Nothing, are you alright? Alright fine, we will not walk down all the way for the chicken rice. You just go do what you have to do and I’ll just chill somewhere while waiting for you, okay?” Then it hit me, oh god, I just totally acted like a fucking bitch. A fucking bitch I was, over-frustrated about something undetected and the blame got splattered on chicken rice. I quickly apologized and said, “No, no, it’s ok, go, no, come, let’s go have your chicken rice ok. You’re hungry, let’s go, we’ll do it quick (since I’m rushing).” Then the whole motion of no, and yes, and no, let’s go for chicken rice, and the no, it’s ok I don’t HAVE TO HAVE chicken shit went on and on and on. I gave in, not wanting to be anymore agitated; so chicken rice, off the list you go. He concluded with, “I don’t even know why I wanted chicken rice in the first place, I’m not hungry at all, I had dinner, and I just felt like something else.” In my head, I was like, you bloody fool, walking down these few blocks knowing that I’m in a rush… god, whatever.

An hour or so later, back to margarita and jazz; back to, “IT’S STILL THERE.” My eyes began to flood with tears to a point where I just couldn’t hold it in any longer. (Yes, in public).

He said: You think too much. Stop over-emphasizing all these little details. Just chill out. Why want to stress yourself out?

I said: I was interviewed once and was asked what I treasured most in life or rather what makes me tick. The interviewer was very much expecting me to go all lengthy about succeeding in life, career, money and etc. Instead, all I said was, “The little things in life.” You know, you can give me a ring now and ask me to marry you. It’s a big thing, I will remember it for life but give it half a year or so, the ring would mean nothing if the little details go missing. To put “giving me a ring” and “looking right into my eyes confirming security” on a scale, what will sustain my love is you looking into my eyes. Tangible or at least obvious moves are usually the easy way out for the unsure. It is the fact that I’m extra observant of the intangible details that makes me a writer; which makes me feel in a more profound manner. I didn’t choose to be observant.

He said: You think I don’t observe? You think I don’t self-reflect in my quiet times? Lately, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking which some turned out to be bothering me. But I always put it to a point where there’re more important things to worry about, larger problems to solve so I automatically choose not to let all these small things bother me.

I said: How do you measure your problems? What are major problems and what are minor problems to you? Very often, people are accustomed to think that obvious problems like money, people, work, politics and etc. fall into the category of major problems while we underestimate the power of “small things”. Maybe because it’s not out there for you to see or sometimes even feel. They eat you up slowly like cancer. To be bankrupt does not necessarily lead to death but a depressed person inside can cause a mysterious shut down within themselves and worst of all, the cause of death remains a mystery.

The conversation went on and on until it faded to a point where I was getting too philosophical and he was getting a little foolish; throwing silly comebacks at my statements.

BUT IT’S THERE and it’s here to stay. The undetectable fear that I feel, or maybe it’s the fear of losing something or the fear of being unsure. What really bothers me is that I do not know what this fear can do to me or what this fear contains. It is when I’m alone in my room that makes me feel safe. Just me, myself and I. In my utopia of sanity and comfort. In my world where I can just shut my eyes for a moment and my mind will bring me anywhere I want to be, where I can at least deny that everything is ok and nobody to contradict that thought. Lovely, how lovely.

Posted by snowism at 12:55 AM | Comments (6)