I notice MB’s body stir in the darkness as he wakes. I will mine to move, and deposit myself squarely on top of him, arms and legs on the side, my head resting against his chest, like a baby clinging on. He checks a couple of chats before setting the phone aside and bringing his arms around, in something of a loose hug.
We lie in silence. I feel my body and spirits raise with every breath of his. This was home. This felt right.
I let the calm slowly spread across my heart.
I do not understand what exactly it is that’s driving me to sleep so much – physical exhaustion or mental stress. I love to sleep, always have. But this is different. I find myself incapable of working, incapable of staying up to do anything.
Continue reading “…”
My father’s voice had a surprising lightness to it as he spoke. The medicines that helped him control his wild mood swings over the last two years also reduced him to a rather mournful figure, with an eerie quietness always hanging about him. I was used to him sounding distant, so it was strange that he sounded almost happy over the phone.
Continue reading “The Life Project”
As cliched and cheesy as it may sound, the best piece of advice I ever received was to be myself. But it didn’t feel cliched and cheesy because it came with context; it came from a clinical psychiatrist; it came after a torrent of tear-fall went down in his presence.
Continue reading “Being Myself”
I re-ignite the dying embers with my soul, dissolve the char in blinding flashes of pain and use the ink to pen another story.
Continue reading “Genesis”