Is There a Cobbler Who Mends Souls?

11 pm on a midweek. There shouldn't be anything different from any other night, but something feels off, somehow. Nights like these there's a stirring in my chest, a familiar tightness that I know now is born out of fatigue, fear and worst of all, loneliness.

Frankly speaking, I'm tired of it. It's at times like these that I can feel the layers of my personal shield are at their thinnest, and that the all too familiar chasm of self pity and despair is peeking (yet again!) through the frayed edges of my sanity. Reminds me of the those old Lovecraftian Elder Gods trying to get their unnameable appendages into the world of the living. In my imagination sometimes, I can almost feel their claws/tendrils scrabbling for purchase, needing only the tiniest crack to slip through and unmake all that I've done. I'd like to think I can fend them off, but ultimately I'm only human.

I have a feeling I'll be in some teeming spot this weekend (probably Bangsar), breathing in the atmosphere, the lights, the noise. Amazing how a place I'd never really had a taste for before now provides a helpful (and sometimes even necessary) escape. Someone told me earlier this week that Bangsar might secede from Malaysia and become a republic. As I laughed at that, I remembered how similar it was to the world as portrayed by Neal Stephenson in Snow Crash. Hmmm.

In any case, there'll be issues I hope will become resolved in the next few weeks as I desperately need to refocus my life.

Did I say desperately? Make it VERY desperately.
Good night, people.