Paperwork

Fever

Was it for real? I can’t believe surviving for ages without a beating heart. I had been kept against my will watching the elements of the world moving, changing, and reacting, all which in slow motion, turtle slow. Every time I try to resist the captivity, a wave of preserved energy shocks my body to leave it shaken and confused. I was paralyzed, stunned, and fully awake. It’s a bit unfair. Since they kept attacking and ramming my fences, until I became unarmed and unprotected. It’s unfair as I can’t pay back, and next time they come, I would be weaker. Then, they invaded my inner chamber, the forbidden room. They steal every treasure they could find. Imagine, a police man inside my head! And a police man is a thief.

I don’t write because the fancy of writing and making big deal of little things. It’s the need to write that drives me coming here over and over, without any control. It’s an urge, exactly like urinating, and hopefully my urine is not that nasty. A guy with ill functioning kidneys may die without dialysis and blood washing/cleaning. As many bad elements accumulate in the blood stream. It transfers into poisons. So, too many ideas may cluster in my brain driving me crazy. Each idea may transfer to a man, woman, police man, venom, potions, tree, or entire universe. I have a whole population inside this tiny ball. Therefore, I have to go through brain dialysis, at least once a week.

How to make me sick? They forced me to stop, and shut down. They voided my eyes from colors. Living in a grey area is not as pleasant as you think. It’s like a curse where there’s no meaning for yes or no. A liberal man is stuck in the middle. Always it has been said: a wise man holds the stick from the center, this time ladies and gentleman, I’m the stick, and I’m been hold from the middle. How to release myself? I reached the stage where life was a huge boundary for living. Breathing retains enough energy to open my eyes, yet to handicap my hands. All I need to do is stop inhaling. It’s giving away a little from this life, for a lot in whatever coming next.

For too long, I’ve been walking behind the illusion of success. A journey for ages is without achievement. And my pathway stops at some stations of clubbing and lights to distract me. To give me the hope, that tomorrow would be my great day. Still, what is the meaning of success? Is it self-centered, people centered, god centered, or pines centered? Lovely! So the last was the missing piece in my successful. Never mind, I think a man can’t judge his success until death. The presence after death is a successful rate. Life is short, and that what I’m missing. 

The previous few paragraphs show clearly the self-guilt, suicide thoughts, and justification for what I have been through and what I plan to do. Yet, I consider my life to any given standers is a great life. I have great family, good friends, 6^th year medical student, and I’m socially involved to the extent I want. I wish for nothing more. So what factors did contribute to my current status? To tell the truth, I don’t know. But probably over dose or insufficient chocolate is the reason. I would like one day to do more researches, cacao wise, to be gives IV for acute depression episodes.

And when you are depressed time passes very slowly. Recently, I went to the theater where my high school graduation ceremony took place. The event was in 2004, yet I can’t understand how time passes too quickly. Really the last few weeks were a bit longer than the 6 years I spent in Riyadh. Still, is aging process passing equally given same period of time? And in Arabic literature, a hard time is a good reason for white hair.

Hopefully in next few weeks we’re going to discus:

1.        Agriculture and civilization.

2.        Crying great men.

3.        Labor market.

4.       Some poems.

And until next episode, I’m back.


All the credit for the picture "Fever" goes to my friend here. The picture link