My psychosomatic aneurysm is throbbing in pain and my eyes are beginning to roll to the back of my skull.

Later in the day, I will be one of them again.  Them being: the sleep-deprived, nicotine- and caffeine-intoxicated night crawlers and grave dancers of this so-called global economy. 

I’ve shunned the moonlight for a good three weeks only to return to it like the tides of Manila Bay would ebb and surge to the waxing and the waning of Luna.  The difficulty is not in waking up: the difficulty lies in establishing a rhythm.  I find it hard to know when my aching body wants to sleep.  My abused circadian rhythm is giving up on me. 

One of these days, sleep would be either: a thing of the past… or the final resolution/answer to my tribulations.

In the meantime, I should prepare myself for the bright lights of Makati and the endless stream of corporate zombies and drones rushing in and out of her skyscrapers.  I should psyche myself for the heavy traffic and the bustling walkways where people often collide but don’t really give a damn.  I should anticipate the nauseating elevator lag and the long comfort room queue.

Most of all, I should accept the fact that in this line of profession, the faceless, foreign voices I assist, are the gods which create the rain that supplies this barren wasteland.  It’s an inescapable, immutable truth of the universe in which I am held captive.

I want to break free – so goes the song in my head.  But this is not the opportune moment.

There are mouths to feed and dreams to set aside.

Oh how I long for slumber…

I’m hollow. 

I’m a shell with nothing inside it.  It used to have some creature of god, some entity - a young snail or an intrepid hermit crab or the nostalgic sound of the sea, perhaps - but now, there’s just nothing there.  Whatever was inside, is now gone.  Has dissipated into thin air. 

Or maybe it’s still there somewhere: dormant, buried in the deepest recesses waiting to be exhumed.  But I can’t find it.  Could it be that I just don’t know where to dig?  Is it possible that it’d reveal itself in due time?  Or will it be interred/laid to rest perpetually?

Could I have lost it along the way in one of my travels?  Could I have left it in the one of the places I’ve been?  Was it stolen when I was not looking/paying attention or was it forcibly withdrawn from me?  Did I misplace it unwittingly or was it “lost” on purpose/by my own resolve?

I’m empty.

There’s a void inside of me that I can’t seem to, but I wish I could, fill with something. With anything.

I’ve struggled to fill it with things I thought I could make use of or things that I thought were going to make me whole.  Nothing seemed to fit.  Maybe the shape does not match or the size isn’t right.  Could it be that the gap is just too narrow to accommodate anything or too wide to keep/hold something in place? 

Whatever it is, there’s always something wrong.  In one way or another, the void rejects what I offer to fill it with. 

I’m empty.

Is anyone else empty?  Could it be that someone out there is also missing something?  Maybe there are other empty shells along this shore that are as hollow as I am. Maybe everyone is empty at one point or another.  Maybe we ALL are.

But then again, maybe I’m alone.

And empty.

If I persevere long enough, maybe I’ll be able to find what I’m lacking.  Perhaps, I’d stop looking once I’ve found it.  Maybe then I’d be complete.

Or could it be that I am cursed to ceaselessly chase something I’ll never find or have lost for all eternity? 

I’m empty.

Maybe there was nothing there after all…

I have just recently unearthed some of the notes that came from the journal my shrink asked me to keep back in 2005 when I was diagnosed of clinical depression.

While reading the notes, I felt like I didn’t really progress much over the years because I still feel or experience most, if not all, of what I’ve written before.  Or maybe I’ve improved quite a bit, I’m not really sure.

I guess it’s all a matter of perspective.  I mean, if, let’s say, a “normal” person were to read the notes, he’d probably say, “this person is nuts” or “what the hell is this person thinking?” and the like.  Most of my sentiments (as I was made to realize during my sessions and as I know now) were pretty trivial/baseless to the point of stupidity. 

But how was I to know back then that my thoughts were foundless or crazy or that I was generalizing too much or that I saw things only in terms of ”black and white” or that I wasn’t really being persecuted by my professors after all, etc.?  A depressed individual would most likely not be able to tell that he/she has impaired cognitive patterns unless it’s pointed out to him/her.

The sessions and the journal actually helped me dissect or figure out what cognitive patterns I had and it helped me prevent myself from thinking in a certain (depressed/negative) way. It allowed me to analyze the content of my thoughts and determine if it’s healthy for me to be thinking this way or not.

Suffice to say, I’ve had really bad days…

10/30/05

Feelings:

I feel depressed.

Event:

My sis and I talked about visiting our grandma.  I said that I would like to but that I’m hoping to get my grade in N-105 first before doing anything that I would like to do such as visiting my grandma, getting a haircut, consulting my dentist, running, etc.

Thoughts:

I am not yet sure if I had passed N-105 and I’m not supposed to enjoy anything just yet.  I must do the things that I enjoy doing only when I’ve already passed N-105.

10/29/05

Feelings:

I am annoyed and I hate my life.

Event:

The outreach program of the org was a miserable failure because the communication between the org and the beneficiaries was inefficient. I was in charge of the coordination.

Thoughts:

I did everything I could but to no avail.  I feel worthless at the moment.  Why do I always have to make stupid mistakes? I hate my life.

11/04/05

Feelings:

I feel intimated.

Thoughts:

I have passed N-105 but then I will soon be taking up more difficult subjects.  I am afraid that I will fail because I have not had a preview of my subjects this second sem.

Event:

I received my grade in N-105.

11/05/05

Feelings:

I feel frustrated.

Thoughts:

I want to work so that I can add to the family income.  My dad does not work anymore and my mom is currently juggling two jobs.

Event:

My mom informed me through text that she can only send money to pay for my tuition fee and that of my siblings next week because she has not yet received her salary.

10/28/05

Feelings:

I feel worthless.

Thoughts:

I feel like I haven’t done much for my family.  All I did was eat, sleep, and study.  I am no longer able to do household chores because my dad wouldn’t let me.

Event:

I saw my dad scrub the floor.

11/02/05

Feelings:

I feel depressed.

Thoughts:

I am running out of time.  My mom and dad are getting older. How am I supposed to take care of the family if one of them (God forbid) dies.  I want to be able to take care of them.

Event:

I saw a photo of my dad when he was still young.

11/07/05

Feelings:

I feel inadequate and incompetent.

Thoughts:

I feel that I am not credible enough.  I would often tell my dad to seek consultation when someone in the family gets sick and not to self-medicate.  I feel that I do not have the persuasiveness to convince him.

Event:

My brother got sick. He had fever, chills, and loose bowel movement.

11/09/05

Feelings:

I feel incompetent.

Thoughts:

I think I know my responsibilities as a student nurse but that I am limited by my inadequacy of knowledge and the fact that I do not know what my sister’s illness is.

Event:

My sister got sick, too.

11/12/05

Feelings:

I hate my life.

Thoughts:

I am always letting people down.

Event:

I told my friends that I’d come to our scheduled group pictorial but I didn’t go.  I was supposed to go to a GA of my org but I didn’t go, either.  I wanted to stay home because I would save money that way.

11/10/05

Feelings:

I am torn between what I want to do and what I need to do.

Thoughts:

I want to get a haircut and my dad also recommends that I do so.  But I think that I can go without the haircut at this point in time.  I feel like my dad can use the money for something else.

Event:

My dad told me to get a haircut.

~~~

Talking in her sleep again

Reciting lines start to end

But she’s not crazy (knock on wood)

Just a little misunderstood…

Everybody wants to be your friend

When you’ve got something you can give them

All I’ve seen, bad and good, she’s not crazy

Just a little misunderstood.

 - excerpt from “misunderstood” by better than ezra