Free Writing #1: Coffee Madness

I tried going to sleep one Thursday afternoon but to no avail. I think I was having an episode of homesickness-slash-lovesickness-slash-anxiety, and tried to find consolation from Facebook. Ugh.

Then evening came; 7:00 PM chased 9:00 PM; then 10:00 PM walked in like a queen and told me I needed a dose of coffee. I couldn’t shake the craving off my nerves and so— imagined myself crawling out of my bedroom—basically half-dragging my caffeine-depleted body and half-flying to the nearest coffee shop.

As the customers in the coffee shop one-by-one stood up from their seats to leave—the Cinderella hour telling everyone in the city to either go back to their beds or revel in bars—I just sat there comfortably on my chair, my mind wide-awake as if the first hour of my day just started.

Just after I have established the number of hours I need to sleep well, here is my body now dragging me to stay loyal with my owl ancestors. I neither feel regretful because of this nor guilty of staying awake during the ungodly hours of 12MN-2AM. This is when the magic happens. *insert smug face here*

Anyway, here are some random caffeine-induced thoughts I’ve been having since I walked outside my apartment that night:

  1. Sometimes, there are those times when you put a little extra effort to be extra pretty/beautiful/dashing/intoxicating (chos!), but then you decide not to take any single selfie because you want yourself to believe that you are truly beautiful without the approval of a selfie…especially the one which goes out in the vast, scary, and wild field of social media sites.

And in one—two, three, or numerous—instance/s when you feel uniquely ugly for a certain day, or insecure, or nothing-goes-right-on-my-face-and-what-the-heck-is-this-hair-doing-on-my-head moments, you frantically browse on your photos to look for a sort of comfort or affirmation or encouragement…and well, there’s none.

And you just end up telling yourself that you are indeed beautiful, because in the absence of a tangible evidence, there is no other choice but to hold on to your faith.

2. For some reason, I came across one story from Humans Of New York (HONY) and I realized that I haven’t seen any of their stories in my Facebook News Feed for quite a time, so I decided to scroll back all the way to August 9 when Brandon started the Invisible Wounds series. I got so hooked on this series because it talked about Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD). As a medical student, PTSD really interests me. But as a person, this hits a little bit near home. Not that I was or is diagnosed with PTSD, but depression plays a big part in PTSD patients—and what’s totally heartbreaking is that PTSD-associated depression will later on end in suicide. And that, my friends, readers, human beings in this planet, is enough to distress me. I don’t know about you but suicide is never a small thing nor exclusively for the “weak-minded.”

Why do I say that? Because I had my period of depression. And yes, if I go to a psychiatrist, I would check the box which said that I thought about suicide. I just love how HONY took this step of making people aware of PTSD and how it is not to be seen as a stigma.

The story about a couple who lost both of their sons in the war left me speechless and tearing up like a young child. Their response to the loss of two of the most important people in their lives to PTSD is so redeeming.

—via HONY

. . .

It seems that I have tinkered some deep stuff in my brain tonight (hahaha!). I hope yours are tinkered too! *winks*

To more tinkering and coffee cups!

#TinkerThursday signed off.

© preciousjemwrites


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