I have been to a hospital plenty of times. Mostly as the patient. I firmly believe it is a good thing to be the patient most of the times. The attendant has a terrible experience. The visitors are mostly faker than silicon.
So there I was yesterday, in a hospital. To visit someone. Someone important.
Its unnerving how its not your fault but you still cant help feeling downtrodden guilty about whatever is happening. Unnecessary, but inevitable.
The guilt could have almost killed me and so would have the backache. So I sat down. It helped to keep me grounded.
But then I was wishing that I was the patient again this time. Because when you are the patient, you have plenty to think about otherwise. Or if not that, then you are in sufficient pain to take care of your brain for a while.
But that, my dear, was not to be. I was the visitor. So I was jobless. And while I sat there, all I could do was nothing. So the stupid wheels of my brain started churning and irritating me.
Thats something my brain does to me all the time. It begins to think all the prepostorous stuff at the wrong time. Yesterday being one of the wrong times. As I sat there, and I saw the feet of all the people passing, those colorful socks, those filthy toes, I could hear footsteps, even when there weren't any. Footsteps of the unseen, unbelieved. Footsteps of what would level me to something tantamount to nothing.
I could sense something approach me and flee.
I know what it was. It was immense fear. Fear of a calamity. Fear of something that would strike me and leave a mark, a bruise that would refuse to heal.
Oh! How I detest that!
I hate the idea of being so vulnerable, so easily affected.
I wish for a state where I can stay calm, unmoved and unaffected by everything..
Fear no more the lightning-flash,
Nor the all-dreaded thunder-stone;
Fear not slander, censure rash;
Thou hast finish'd joy and moan:
So there I was yesterday, in a hospital. To visit someone. Someone important.
Its unnerving how its not your fault but you still cant help feeling downtrodden guilty about whatever is happening. Unnecessary, but inevitable.
The guilt could have almost killed me and so would have the backache. So I sat down. It helped to keep me grounded.
But then I was wishing that I was the patient again this time. Because when you are the patient, you have plenty to think about otherwise. Or if not that, then you are in sufficient pain to take care of your brain for a while.
But that, my dear, was not to be. I was the visitor. So I was jobless. And while I sat there, all I could do was nothing. So the stupid wheels of my brain started churning and irritating me.
Thats something my brain does to me all the time. It begins to think all the prepostorous stuff at the wrong time. Yesterday being one of the wrong times. As I sat there, and I saw the feet of all the people passing, those colorful socks, those filthy toes, I could hear footsteps, even when there weren't any. Footsteps of the unseen, unbelieved. Footsteps of what would level me to something tantamount to nothing.
I could sense something approach me and flee.
I know what it was. It was immense fear. Fear of a calamity. Fear of something that would strike me and leave a mark, a bruise that would refuse to heal.
Oh! How I detest that!
I hate the idea of being so vulnerable, so easily affected.
I wish for a state where I can stay calm, unmoved and unaffected by everything..
Fear no more the lightning-flash,
Nor the all-dreaded thunder-stone;
Fear not slander, censure rash;
Thou hast finish'd joy and moan:
I sat there till till I could not stand it anymore. And I walked away. Without a word. I don't remember nothing of the last night. I can't even recall if I did really meet the patient or not. All that I remember is the footsteps. And another thing,
while walking out, I saw a board that read "Department of Psychiatry", for an unexplained reason, (or so I'd choose to assume) I smiled.
Anyways,
See ya around.