It.

(Illustration by Maggie Chiang)

It was not supposed to be here. Somewhere else had always been the intention of this loose rapid mind. It could have stayed locked and frozen in the time-vault of gone thoughts and memories. But no, it seeps back to the conscious to manifest again. It manipulates and empties the mind of anything else.

A parasite of the mind from the gateway of creation riding on matter creation engines, our building blocks of life. It had found its host many years before. It knows and understands too well my loose rapid mind. So easy to dig in and attach with predictability and sureness of human thought and memory. Always has been and forever will be easy prey for It.

Just a merest glimpse will do. A second is all that is required. Sometimes more. The longer I see the more certain of It invading. Time for It to enter is nothing. It is forever waiting, forever aware. The original time and space traveler. Pounce it will. Blink into existence, faster than light. From one end of the Universe to the other in less than the blink of an eye.

In times past, the parasite was welcome. Future optimism existed and embraced as It would be experienced again at some indefinable point in the future. There was certainty in It’s success. It turned up the lips in the corner for a prolonged smile and cast dreamy glazed eyes to different times, people and places.

Second week of March 2020, late in the North East Monsoon surf season on the East Coast of Malaysia. An Ocean of waves and sound still reeling the sandbar lefts of Cherating as the not quite yet full moon rises into the sky with salmon pink cloud reflecting the last of the day rays. Ying and Yang of moon and sun at the same time. Early stars blinking in to the viewscape. Ocean sounds still washing the senses. Body exhausted and satiated after hours of non-stop surf. Chilled Beer in hand and so refreshing. Mind replay reel running the surf highlights under the increasing Moon, confident of more pleasure in the not too distant future. Memory locked in and soul is fully nourished…..for now.

This November 2020 Covid lockdown time yet again without end in sight. North East Monsoon season has started again like clockwork producing thousands of waves beckoning to be played with. Land and sea sunrises, sunsets, moon and stars to be absorbed. No, Covid Jail it is.

Sadness and depression wash over, lip muscles fail to defy gravity, eyes are lifeless, the head shakes in a slomo no – no. It now hurts. No matter how the mind tries to defy this overbearing descent of gloom by casting back to the welcoming past, nothing works. It must be exorcised! Be gone I scream. Clean and clear the mind. I must for my sanity is on the line. Be expunged to the farthest points of the Universe!

It launched itself silently and attached firmly by my own doing. My fault alone for having a wonderful existence. “It” – this beautiful memory that refuses to leave, only to torture this loose rapid mind with the futility of it’s being. Grey to black washes over and over the soul every time memories seep back into being.

“…North East Monsoon producing thousands of waves beckoning to be played with….No, Covid Jail it is. Grey to black washes over and over the soul…..”

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