Tuesday, 21 August 2018

Read it, don't read it.

Read it, don’t read it, it doesn’t matter to me. I just need to say this to an invisible community out there, who might not even read it or need it. I have been not good enough since 1977 and even before. But the day in 1977 when I was in standard 2, haunts me like a nightmare. It could have been September, the classroom door was open and the sun was bright and warm outside.
I walk through the mall and I look at the people, and I wonder if we all carry the anxiety deep within us. Like a homing device, deep inside, constantly saying “not today, definitely not today, maybe tomorrow”, while time moves forward relentlessly.
Today I am experiencing this sense of urgency so clearly, I would like to cry. While lying in the bath this morning, I ran through a list of my closest friends and family in my head, and I know for sure, one after the other after the other is experiencing that unwelcome, too familiar gnawing “dear God just get me through this day”. And for them today and maybe for you, if you are still reading, it might not even be a bad day.
In this day and age, we say “I am so over myself”, meaning I am sick and tired of myself in conversational language, but what it really means in the language of the heart is “I am sick and tired of locking me away from myself”. And suddenly little bits of concrete are crumbling down from the ceiling as if the walls are starting to fall down.

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