All that you do is sleep. The way mind gets disoriented, and how the steps lag. the mess that your room is in, your clothes dirty, the only saving grace so far is the weather, for its still cool....
Life is good. You do your work, and don't have much time to think about things. You don't worry that you are out of touch with reality, you don't get time to wake up at your own free will and decide what to do with the remaining hours of the day, you don't get to read a newspaper, or if you do, its hurried look-over of the contents. You have never been to a Parlour to do more than a haircut doesn't bother you because you don't seek a society that has a lot of well tended to women. The basic amenities, the ablutions, are met and forgotten. Rest of the day is a long fight to seek the rights of " My Patient".
Life is good. That you pack in so much of other people in your lives, that it doesn't matter if your own life is a vacuum. A Cipher. I look forward to this time when I walk from the Ward and enter my room and be myself. Whether it means collapsing on the bed with the Blogger on or checking my Bittorrent Speed every 5 minutes.
Life is also good because even if you meet people who have not been to one hundredth the places some of your highly placed, variedly been friends have been, you still respect their simplicity, even their innocence, and their innate tendency to accept. And work without questioning.
I am worse of the lot, because I have questions I will never have answers to, and I will know too much about places I will never be to. I try my happiness with the beautiful ( in every sense of the word) patients I get at times...the bird I have been tracking for the last week whose only agenda is to crack mirrors and ruin windshield wipers of cars parked at a certain location outside the Superintendent Office, to watch deciduous trees take red leaves, and to keep missing that heavy wet air in a faraway place called home yet have no plans to stay there....
Life is at its anonymous best. And past smiles, tears, exultations, feelings, actions, all lie wrapped in a secret trove called " Amygdaloid trips".
Even this is to be taken in the literal sense as well...
We don't see things as they are,we see them as we are.(Anais Nin)
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