I am feeling depressed and obscure of my thoughts, truth is, I have no idea what I am thinking or what to. Crazy huh? Well to some, it is a state of confusion, where everything that matters become muddled up in your head and you can’t make out what is most important, or the answer to the easiest question ever. To me, it is an imaginative battle between my ability to reason and the fear which clouds my thought. Lolz… do not go thinking that I’ve gone insane, well just a bit knocked off by my helplessness. My eyes looking weary like I haven’t slept in a thousand years, my neck; thinner, making my body feel the heavy weight of my head. My feet are numb and cold, unable to assist my weakened body to stand firm. But, what amazes me is how active my hands are, keeping close connection with my mind, taking note of every actions and inactions. Like, it’s not a part of my body, like an agent of its own, taking orders from no one. Then it hit me hard right here in the middle of my head, like a torpedo, and everything becomes black, all dark. Suddenly, a war breaks out in my head, a war of turmoil.
This war going on in my head, I can only describe laconically. It’s blurry, making me feel drowsy and frazzled, like I am having a terrible headache threatening to take my head off. Just like a battle between the Spartan army and the Persian invaders, where both armies are stomping their feet and spears to the ground, harder every second, screaming their victory song even before the war begins. The trumpet is blown and the command to march forward is given, each soldier racing towards his enemy, fueled with the desire to kill, to destroy. He is aware of the oath which he had taken, “to the death”, and even though afraid, he wants to die with his enemy by his side…. dead! To him, it is vengeance for making him abandon his sweet and blissful life to face death, but to others …. It’s “Honor”. Fathers, brothers and sons all slaughtered to shreds. Hatred grips the heart of the man who watches his best man die; he aims his spear at the killer and rushes towards him with the desire to deliver justice to the offender. He is the best sword man, but he’s fate is to die in the hands of the same man who killed his friend, as he misses his aim and receive the gift of “peace” from the enemy. Peace from all the roaring blood shedding monsters… away from the thoughts of his past life… away from having to battle with another sword or dodge another spear.
He holds his chest, gasping for breath, as he stares at his killer for the last time, much longer, like he is taking a photograph of his enemy’s face, so as to take his revenge on him if his killer meets the same fate as he. Then, with a loud cry of surrender, he dies.
The killer spits on him,and moves on to his next target, for every life he takes, he gets stronger. Now he pities his next victim… well so he thought… looking at him with disdain, his enemy…his prey. He sways his sword to the rhythm of the wind, and chuckles scornfully at his opponent, as he moves towards him with a roaring sound. Then in split seconds, he is on the ground, his two eyes opened, one of his arm; defiant, as it rolls away from his body, his legs; lifeless, and fails to obey his command to move. Fear grips him as he remembers the best swordsman who he luckily killed some minutes ago, afraid to face his enemy again and continue this bloody war, one which he never signed for. He remembers his farmland and cattle, his now orphaned daughter, and his aged mother, who will have to answer all the questions of the naive child when he doesn’t return home. Tears slides down his face, and just as the victorious shout of the enemy are heard, he closes his eyes as if to take a nap… for eternity.
Suddenly with the call of a halt from the commander, everything stops and everyone becomes quiet. The blurry image becomes clear, although still feeling drowsy; my eyes escape from darkness and identify with the light once again. All the noise around me seizes, and I am conscious of the happenings around me, like the Adrenaline which I imagined running through me has suddenly gone off.
This time, my ability to reason has won the war and just as the women, of the victorious army will race towards them, welcoming them with songs of praise, bowing down in admiration to their great bravery, so also all the memories and ideas I thought were lost came rushing back into my mind, all detailed and visible like it never disappeared, not even for a second. Now, more than ever I am calm and filled with the alacrity to task myself into thinking, just like I am doing now, I am rebuilding all the fallen walls of my mind, sealing all the leaking spaces, like the army fishing out every spy in their camp and destroying them. Some people say, “I feel lifeless when i am confused”, some claim to be void to everything around them, “like I am in a trance, a deep one”, a friend of mine would say. Some people take a walk to clear out their mind, some a ride; others just take a nap hoping to be better organized in thought. Well I guess people are different from each other after all. I get creative sometimes when I am confused, I write. Even in the state of turmoil, I take possession of my inner self and fight the darkness that wants to consume me.
“Confusion is the welcome mat at the door of creativity”. Michael J. Gelb