Fragments
written by: Lois Rose Mayday
As I dim the lights of my room and type into the shallow spaces of my electronic device, not quite getting the kick that I usually get when I bleed on thin, ruled, double-sided paper, I see myself struggling to find words that were second nature to me. How burnout has vandalized those words that were this close to formulating a complete and concrete thought, an expression, a release. It also made me realise that words have always come easier to me than human connections. Then it struck—it was never about human connections; it was my raw desire to feel deeply and express voraciously. Sometimes this head needs a very solid and reliable outlet to avoid the inevitable ache. What’s the severity of this ache, you may ask? I’d say, the ache of thinking in fragments—the lack of energy to piece it together, the body that gives up mid-way because a depleting soul would rather fade away into the pits of nothingness than torment oneself a tad bit more and lose another thread that has been holding it safely enough to survive. Let’s say I thrive in my delusions for a second and force it out; all I wonder then is where and how the pieces I write would land. Will it make the reader sit back and reflect, or will it bounce off their busy minds just like any other trivial chore?
Breathe in, breathe out, lie down, sit back up, type in a bit more—and that’s how I completed this tiny account on my phone’s Notes app.
