Hopefully, I Can Find The Remedy Soon
by Chua Han Au
A lot has happened recently which have morphed my most innate desires as a human being, and it is possible that my inclination to write or the vessel which has been storing the lights of inspiration is slowly collapsing and the future ahead seems utterly bleak.
Days flip and flip, and this year, I have been trying to keep up with everything that seems to take place ever so simultaneously. Lethargy and persistence fight and often the former triumphs. Time does not permit me to have adequate rest or even read a book before going to bed. They are right: pre-varsity life does takes a toll on you. Concurrently dragged by this turbulent nature of mine, everything exacerbates.
It is seemingly contrived how when one laments about how he is lost in the woods they are slapped with disdain. But if you listen closely to their hearts and the melody that resonates within their soul, you realise that the state of melancholia is truly blue.
The age of a tree can be counted by its rings, once felled.
Each time as I shed my leaves bare, I await patiently for new ones to grow. But it turns out that there are never new ones, it’s just dust that resides on the branches, leaving a mere grotesque system, with an abundance of black bile that metastasises.
It’s drizzling outside. I fancy’t, especially its distinctive petrichor — the jasmine and gingerbread scent, laving the land with its sweetness. Silent and soft, as they kiss your skin like champagne bubbles.
Ironically, in this drizzle, the painful flames you ignited, have set my past ablaze. There they burned once again, vestiges I thought had incinerated.
I thought wrong, they merely hibernated; and have now awakened.
You remind me too much of my history — my harrowing past. As I get to understand you, I am inadvertently trying to understand myself. Yet sometimes, it occurs to me that we might be dichotomies. Perhaps, we aren’t even reflections of one another.
I used to tell myself to try and understand the people around me, convincing myself that their seemingly enigmatic behaviour is simply a well-crafted façade that everyone wears — just that theirs are more apparent.
I don’t have to be the same marionette like the one that has been sold.
This has then led to a compulsion to seek for renewal more frequently than ever before. A renewal where I put aside the previous hypotheses, in search of a new and more concrete one.
An intrinsic response is to shut myself away from everyone which then lulls me into this state of melancholy, an irrational behaviour; I don’t know how to feel. Hopefully, I can find the remedy soon.
In the process of understanding what it truly means to be human, I have realised that happiness is not something we are born with, it is something we sign up for.