Monday, November 12, 2007

feverish thoughts

no, i'm not running a fever, although i'm feeling pretty sick, for completely unrelated (a.k.a. psychological) reasons.

the trigger for this post is my friend saurabh's previous one. he said something that i've always wanted to, and reading it makes me feel exactly the way he did too.

i've noticed that every time i have a fever (no, not the mild 1-degree ones - they don't count), approximately the same thoughts run through my head. apparently, they're not connected with just being unwell, because things other than fever don't prompt that reaction. there's probably a medical/psychological/physiological connection, but i don't know. so here it is, although i'm pretty sure my words won't paint a picture clear enough for anyone but me:

it happens at night. not late enough for my parents or bro to be asleep, not early enough for there to be plenty of sounds outside. i'm lying alone in bed and closing my eyes without really falling asleep...

and then comes "the feeling".

it's this feeling of emptiness and smallness and darkness, but not in a scary way. the feeling of being nowhere and almost nothing, yet the feeling of there being something inside, something that's usually hidden. it's something like a dream, though i'm fully awake. more like a day dream, or a tinge of dreaminess to the world around. i hear people i love talking to me. they're being very quiet and serious. so serious, that i don't feel like talking to them. they tell me i'm gonna be fine, and i remain quiet in response. i know i will be fine, and that this is just a fever, but i feel that even though i recover from my illness, i won't fully recover from something. that something is a very dark and cold thing, unnamed and unseen and unimagined and unthought of. it just makes me feel cold, makes me bundle myself up despite the heat inside me. something that i'm losing my life to, day by day. i feel a quiet, dark desperation.

then comes this feeling of strength. a very small strength, like a little kid trying to escape from a blanket thrown playfully over it and held firmly by a mischievous dad or elder brother. not a panicked strength, but a firm one - like when the kid realises that his dad/bro aren't gonna be fazed by his desperate cries for help and wild thrashing of his feet. when he wriggles an arm out of the blanket and then tries to use it to slip out completely. when his dad/bro realise the fun part is over and it's pointless tormenting the kid further. and then comes the letting go. the kid is free, but tired. and so am i.

i sleep - tired, but peaceful.

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