I always believed that when my mind rests, my heart speaks that is why it is always in the middle of the night when I really think I am at my best.
It is almost always the same time as that when I made those projects that aced my subjects way back in college; when I wrote that piece that gave me a spot in I-Witness’ first Docuseminar; when I thought of that ad line that actually made my presentation remarkable.
To simply put, that is always the time when I came up with things I thought I was not capable of doing or producing.
I don’t have a project to pass that day. I don’t even have an event coming up where I could probably use those creative juices but that time, in the middle of the night, I am still up and just tapping the letters non-stop.
I’d love to think it is my mind telling me what to do but come to think of it, I’m not even aware of what exactly I’m doing. All I know is I’m hurting that time in a lot of ways and the kind of pain that was present then – it’s all alien to me. I can’t even bear feeling that inside me.
I could only wish then that I am at my best that time so I can come up with something unimaginable that could somehow turn things around.
But my mind won’t let me.
It won’t stop reminding me all those instances and all those situations that almost took away my sanity.
It won’t also stop telling me the things that are already within my reach that I just allowed to slip willingly.
It won’t even stop scaring me.
Then I realized, that night … in the middle of that particular night, even my heart stopped working for me.