Wednesday, November 2

Dear void,
I am truly lost. No. I fear it is something much worse. Lost is when u become diverted from ur ultimate destination. As for me, i don't even know what my destination is, much less divert from it. It seems my destination, as bleak as it is, is tauntingly drifting further away towards oblivion until i, which i believe i undoubtedly will, snap. I keep walking and walking. The question as to where to, i personally do not have an answer. The past few weeks i've spent alone has been painfully reflective. Penetrating my vessel to my very soul. It's been a while since i wrote anything productive. Tonight is a good time to start again. At least before my coming absence in the next fortnight.
Ur master and ur slave,
Rush.

I walk the streets, emptied of human life. It feels like i have been walking forever. The lights from the street lamps seem to be locked in an eternal battle with the enveloping darkness of night. The lyrics to "Boulevard Of Broken Dreams" chime in my head like the bell in those ferries that grow irritatingly by the second while blinking 'Please Disembark' on the screen, which i personally believe that they might as well say 'Fuck Off The Boat' instead. The glass doors to the large stores that should open automatically in daylight just stares ignorantly as i passed in their closed state. I laugh at my self proclaimed unworthiness and keep on walking.
It has been 10 years since I started being a psychiatrist. Only I seem to notice the irony of the state I'm in. Me, a so-called mender of wounded souls, can't solve problems of my own. When i told my boss that i can't counsel any more, he just slapped me on the back, told me to suck it up. "Everyone has problems", he says. He's right about that. But now my eyes have been opened. I realise how man can be prone to inflicting pain to ourselves just to inversely gain a minute of self control over one's own mind and destiny. Now that is power. Those who claim holier-than-thou mock us of our 'weakness' but i've seen the truth. They themselves fear the temptation of giving in to the power. The only weak ones here are those who dare not see it as it is. Like what i've been all these years. But now its changed. I see life not in black and white but in full magnificent colour. I am alive.
She tugged at my sleeve, wakin me up to the dark reality. "Daddy, i'm tired of walkin. Let's go," she says. I picked up and sat her on my shoulder, nodding my head. I guess it is time to go. To where there is never an answer.

Blur by
M. Rushdy