The Leech

My mind has always been up and running. Always occupied with the essentials. But of late, it has reached a more complex and dangerous form. I mean its like there is so much on my mind that sometimes it feels like the pressure exerted on the walls of a dam by the superfluous waters of a river after a flood. It feels like there will be a sharp spark in my head and there it would be; my brain lying on the floor besides me with its circuitry emitting dry smoke, like the one from a burned wiring. Thoughts which could not stop, and the highways in my brain, that could not accomodate their pressure.  I admit that I have started to think a lot, but it somehow feels unavoidable. I just cannot stop it. It has become like a disease. And mind you, I obviously hate that.

If I were to attempt to list out everything, I would be lost in translation from one issue to the other. Ironically, however, this is what I am from the past one and a half years which envelopes approximately  two academic years. I dont know when I was dragged into this. I never realised when this "leech" began sucking the peace out of me . Now, it is so bad, it feels like that even if I pull it out, the tiny fangs of the "leech" would not dislodge, and consequently it would pull my character with it, like the skin, tearing it apart to pieces, the soberness would spurt out like the blood and proceed towards becoming empty, and the the complete "I" would be destroyed, like the muscles ripping apart, and my peace would be lost, forever.

I met a friend yesterday over a coffee. We chatted a lot. She, as usual, never spoke much about herself. And I as usual, kept ranting. Discussing with her the past, made me feel relieved. I blurted out whatever was curbed deep inside me. I had a chance of reclaiming my sanity and I said it, I said it all. It felt like a major portion of the leech taken off without pain. I felt light.  As the talks proceeded, I found myself talking about writing. She mentioned of the past times when I used to write a lot, compared me to a lot of people whom I advised to write, and in the end, thus, slammed a hard hitting point bang on my dead conscience. For the first time in so many years, I felt it. I felt like writing. It was like someone in comatose moved a withered finger. Moreso like the first ripple of still waters.

I was told to write whatever comes to my rusted brains. The suggestion lingered on for a long time, and thankfully, and luckily, did not fade out. And so here I am, ranting to you all. I would not have written this much too, if it would not have been for her. The issue has not begun yet in this text, but this is just for those who feel stuck. I would really try my best to put the issues in my mind in my further posts (pray that they happen). But my advise for the stuck ones-Go rant it out to a good person, to a good friend. And if you write, just be frantic. Take a paper and a pen, or open a blank page on Word, or any shit of that sort, and just be frantic. And if you dont write, then start writing. Its a very effective vent. Take out your frustration on the keyboard or the pen, but begin. Begin, and you will surely see the light.

Love,
Nik.