The Big Meltdown

To talk -or even worse, to write- you need to concentrate, and that's where all my current problems arise..

Any human wouldn't be holding his brain up to impossible standards if he asks it to, sometimes, focus on only one thought at a given time. I mean that's the least you would expect of an ugly looking fleshy convoluted substance connected to all sorts of wires and tubes that you are very nice to waste the only spacious room in the only head you have on accommodating it, giving it all priorities of protection, nutrition and survival over all the other put together substances that make you you. After all what you do for it, you would expect it to show minimum gratitude by doing that little thing called concentration, but no, that mass of ungrateful proteins and fats won't. At first I thought it was mental exhaustion because of 3 months of exams and intolerable stress. Maybe my brain had a right to break down, go on strike and refuse to perform any complex function properly for at least another compensatory 3 months. But now I know I won't easily get away with just "won't perform a complex function". My brain is refusing to simply "function" at all.

Concentration can be materialistically felt as it happens. You can feel all parts of your brain holding up more tightly as if some cement material dries up to bring them closely to each other. You can almost sense the rapid firing of signals as they whoosh across it. You can almost hear the extra amount of blood your brain is ordering as it vibrates through the vessels. You are very conscious of your own self fully present inside your head. You are fully conscious that you are here.

That thrilling awareness inside your head! The confidence that comes along with it in your own judgement, your own processing of all input data and your ability to completely trust the deduced output. Knowing that you can hold a pen and write a complete page that won't look ridiculous or incoherent at the end when you're reading it. The command over your speech, over your feelings, over your gaze that becomes targeted in purposeful movement and not just aimlessly shot everywhere.

That feeling is not here anymore. Loosening is the word. I can feel the loosening meltdown in my head. The cells are hanging out in the swimming pool of fluid surrounding them (another privilege that brain has) as if they have no job they should be doing. I can't remember when was the last time I felt that way, may be because that was really long ago, and may be because the meltdown loosened my memory too. I didn't give up though. I told myself that if brain can't do it, may be I can tempt some of the other organs I accommodate to do it if I offer it the privileges that brain has. But that apparently is only another loosened thought produced by the molten cells, it turned out that I don't hold the right to redistribute the privileges and that brain is to continue to have them whether it decides to function or not.

So I finally decided to embrace the new me. That one who can't read 4 pages in a row in any book, can't finish writing a single article, can't see herself through a conversation to its end, can't rely on the output coming out of her head for daily use for fear that its processing has taken a wrong turn in the molten tracts in her head. May be if I stop fighting brain, it would eventually feel ashamed and go back to doing the job it was created for doing.

Until then, from the meltdown, greetings..