Mr erstwhile life has had one constant theme ... that of confusion. My birth sprouted from the confusion between lust and love, duty and cowardice. My childhood swung in pendulum to the whims of embittered parents. My emancipation was wrenched from fear and rebellion, resulting in a conflux of convictions and doubts. Then an era of arrogant certainty cast a shadow over growth, glossed and gilded by material pursuits. Such certainty, of course, is not only ill-advised but also short-lived. Well, as short as the life-span of humanity allows.
A wake-up call comes not from the expected thrust of the ruthless business arena, or the back-stabbing of unscrupulous frenemies but direct from the Hand of God. Struck in the prime by a disease that is little comprehended, widely dismissed and constantly misinterpreted. I found myself jobless, homeless and neigh lifeless.
Picking myself up took a while but it was done with some measure of grace and will. And so pride ensued that I had overcome and become better in some ways even if it appeared lesser to some. And then it struck a second time, except this time with greater virulence and viciousness, as if to punish me for escaping once before.
This time, the disease added new curve balls, just to show me who's boss.
And so I found my lifestyle changed yet again and I am now once more at the crossroad, staring at the forks, wondering if this is the start or the end. In times of confusion, I can only resort to some level of mechanism to maintain sanity and to cope. Thus, this is a journal of my long kiss goodnight.
In order words, welcome to my whine dairy.
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