Kartography

I was reading a novel just now, “Kartography”, and there’s a line in that novel, which says something to the effect of,

“There’s a ghost of a dream that you don’t even try to shake free of because you’re too in love with the way he haunts you.”

It had nothing to do with what I was thinking about this morning, or this afternoon, or even this evening. But 10 seconds ago, I had an inexplicable urge to put the book down, and write something, anything, and so here I am. It made me think of things in my life, things I don’t know about. Things, people, situations, places, I don’t understand. Feelings I can’t explain. Emotions, thoughts I can’t express.

Perhaps I’m too scared. Too afraid to face what’s there. What won’t go away. Being a failure in the eyes of the world is not scary. Being a failure to yourself is. There was something else in the novel which made me think. He said that when his brother disappeared when he was younger, his only fear was that when he was found, he would be a maligned beggar, and he would have to share his room with this maligned, deformed being.

Yes, I know that’s morally, and irrepressibly wrong to think. And yet we still do. The tears in my eyes haven’t stopped falling. No one sees them. And yet, they fall. More and more everyday. I feel, but not talking about it, does that make it worse?

Someone once told me that writing down one’s feelings makes one feel better. You had better be right. Feels inexplicably odd, it does, to feel, and not know what one is feeling. Brand new emotions, bordering confusion, with deep thought, and quite a few healthy doses of contemplation. I don’t know if it’s wrong to feel like this, but for some reason, I can’t stop. I need to let this out. Mayhap it’s a bunch of complete and utter gibberish, and whosoever reads this, will look at me in a way so as to let me know that the only proper place for someone like me is, well, not with them. And yet, I can’t stop. I continue typing, as though the only saviour left for me is to continue. Just keep on going. What does that make me? Abnormal, for sure. But, it’s not odd. I can. Continue. Talking rubbish. And no one can say anything.

Where does one go when all the paths have different endings. Is love enough? Perhaps I’m done. Perhaps there will be more later. Love. Keep thinking? Helping? No? Hmmm, mayhap something new. Fresh. Different. No, I like this. Makes sense. At least, to me.

Laughing, everyone. Or, trying. Like I said, continue. One day. One day. Good way to end this. One day. La, la, la, la, la…..

It's been ages since I wrote something on this. It's pretty late here, actually, but I've been snoozing the entire day, so I think how I was going to spend my night was pre-determined.

I'm listening to old songs at the moment, something that's always been able to soothe my incredibly overactive mind.

I suppose I've been wondering the whole day how many people take the time out of their day to actually understand how much more blessed they are then others, and how little they tend to send thanks to the one who deserves it for just how comfortable their life is at the moment. We spend money here without any thought to where it's going, and how it's going to be replenished. It's surprising how monetary one can become when their baser nature is revealed, isn't it?

Those families whose parents have been laid off, what must they be doing? How must they be coping with their situations in life?

Following their examples WOULD make an immense amount of sense, but then, not everyone has the inner strength and determination to actually do that. Sometimes, when I'm sitting in university, hearing these students talk about their clinical rotations, and their wards, I imagine what it will feel like to be in their position next year. I cannot believe that it is so easy to walk out of a clinical rotation, where there are people dying, families losing hope, moment after moment, and still be able to smile and laugh as soon as you're "free" of those confines.

My brother told me today that I'm much too emotional, and perhaps that's true, but when it comes time to perform surgery on a patient, if I ever get to that point, then I hope I will have the will, strength, patience, and courage to keep my hand steady, because right now, I don't know if I can do it. I'm scared, and I feel like placing someone's life in my hands would be the most foolish decision that someone could make. I hope God gives me the ablities that I need to make it, for He is my only hope right now.

Life sometimes crowds in on you, makes you feel like all your good for is completing the audience, because you're never going to be good enough to be a part of the "team". I suppose it's at those instances that you have to fight back, and prove to yourself, and the world, that the only person who has a right to tell you that you CAN'T do something is yourself, and since no one is quite that insane, you can do it.

Have faith in yourself. That's what they all say. It's supposed to help. Make you believe in miracles. But what if you don't believe you deserve those miracles? What then?

Who helps? Where do you go?

Keep thinking. It gets a lot worse.

The sky is always at its most calm before the storm, honey.