shut

I lie here, with my eyes closed. I'm ill, I need to do this- nothing. I've had my brief dose of the laptop, I've read as much as I can or should, and now I must do nothing. I often think that I have lost the ability (if I had it to begin with) to just be, to do nothing, to simply think, or think of nothing. But here I am, and I must because the pain is too much.

So now I try to relax. Find something to think of, but my mind will not be controlled thus. Instead i flit from thought to thought. From details to ideas, from memories to opinions, so breezily I can't even catch the connections that lead from one to another. I try to see them, try to hold on to the thread that takes me from abstracts to specifics, but they disintegrate.

I can hear the wind chimes tinkle gently. Ta-dak, dak. Ta-dak, dak. A car whizzes by outside unusually loudly. An infant squeals in the park. I can suddenly smell sea water, hear waves. My mouth tastes salt, then waters for spice and kaffir lime leaves. I think of FairPrice, the local supermarket, and that I haven't been there in some time now. I can see some design, a look, something I could experiment with at work, but I push the thought away. I don't want to think about office. I am aware now again, aware that I am thinking. Aware that I am trying to think. I grasp, reach out, clutch at thin air.

I open my eyes, helpless.