Today the music seemed to reverberate in my eardrums and interfere with my cerebral functions. That wasn’t the case yesterday at the foot of the white cardboard staircase leading up away from the white cardboard seats outside the food court situated on the second level of YIH.
Same playlist, same work, same mind, same me. Yet everything was different.
Just like how yesterday at 8:00AM, I was an ethereal being on cloud nine, my mind filled with luminous loving thoughts. By 9:00AM, I was onboard a rickety double decker bus fuming over how my mother treats me like an imbecile.
And also how on Monday, I pounded the red tracks running through my neighborhood roadside park with infinite vigor and this morning struggled to complete the same distance I’ve planned to cover for this week.
On Tuesday, I’ve long lost hope in IMH and the antidepressants prescribed to me. After a long training session at NTU, I returned to NUS after what appeared to me like a being sucked through a time warp, whatever the hell that means. I alighted at the stop opposite UHC and decided to stroll up to the reception to make an appointment.
More than 1 year ago, I’ve been there with trembling hands and a palpitating heart, held up by the comforting presence of Melanie dear, making an appointment to see a psychologist.
Tuesday, I strolled in with a spring in my step, carefree and relaxed. I threw a few jokes at Jolene, the kind lady who stepped in for her colleague Joseph at the desk. While filling out the request for change of counselor form, my former counselor strolled past with his familiar denim get-up and rocker style. It was then I realized that I don’t hate males. It was just that I didn’t remove myself from uncomfortable and non ideal situations I have somehow ended up in.
This universe works in such mysterious ways and I’ve grown tired of trying to foretell its every meander.
I’ve realized that there never really was an “I”, a concrete, stable sense of identity which I was never supposed to feel. After letting that go, I felt myself liberated, like a balloon drifting off a child’s chubby palms and into the crimson sunset.