It is early morning and I cannot sleep. I cannot sleep because my skin is itching. I cannot sleep because my breathing gets really shallow when it’s cold. I don’t like taking medication because the taste sucks. An inhaler would have been better but I don’t know where my nebulizer has gone. I think a neighbor borrowed it sometime ago in a place far away.
Having asthma when I was younger made me feel special. Adults always treated me differently when they find out. I was excluded from most strenuous activities, which led to me leading a sedentary existence and later on gaining weight which I only managed to deal with when I got into college when I discovered sports.
One time that asthma held me back in this life was when I was taken off library cleaning duties by my teacher-adviser. This was in elementary and I really wanted to be in that cleaning group because I liked being around that much books and because two of my crushes were in that group, and I was the only boy in that group, and I thought I could be with them a lot, cleaning things and talking about books. I liked books and girls, still do.
And then in high school I got depression, self-diagnosed, which is the worst kind of depression. There were several theories on why I got depression. The first one was the hopeless repetition of it all. The commute was just too much for me. That depressing view outside of the moving vehicle of garbage and burning garbage, and smoke and dust. I remember liking the greeneries – trees, shrubs, ricefields, but all it did was to prolong the inevitable, which was of me dropping out and leading a cool rock n’ roll lifestyle. Theory number two was my grades dropping. It was I think the very first time in my life that I struggled academically and it was so much for my ego to handle, and so I broke and shattered and just let things get worse. I remember doing fine in some things, but this was overshadowed mentally by my failures. Still now, I don’t have much memories of my time in high school. So it’s actually just two theories. But that’s more than enough explanation.
I like being awake at godawful hours of the morning. It’s cold, it’s quiet and I can hear myself think, not that I don’t do enough introspection already. But the voice seems to be clearer at these hours. It could be that the mentalspace is much freer because people are asleep. There is just me and those other night-owls who cannot sleep or must not sleep because they have work to do. I remember so many other moments like this – just me in front of my computer typing / writing all sorts of shit in the early mornings. I hope for more moments like this.