Was awake all night last night talking to Fazurin, until he fell asleep and I had no choice but to try to sleep. No avail – it was even worse when you try to impose sleep as you get very tired and more disturbed. In the end, I had to resort to SMS Allen, Jita, Bobo and a few others at 5 o’clock in the morning – Jita said I sounded suicidal, but then again I have always sounded suicidal even when everything is OK. The last time when I had trouble sleeping and all in uni, I usually gulped sleeping pills endlessly, then had to resort to caffein pills to stay awake the next day – so it was quite a vicious cycle, which I don’t want to repeat. So better sound suicidal with SMS in the wee hours than resorting to sleeping and caffein pills.
This is turning into my own blog? Well maybe – but this phenomenon is not only happening to me. Just 2 days ago Fadli sent a series of e-mails which were out of characters – melancholic, sentimental and desperate to get out from something. He is of course stuck in the tight routine of jobs and deadline, but I have never heard or encountered Fadli in that tone ever. We of course laughed at it initially, not surprised that he has gone mad finally – but last night, it dawned on me that this is contagious.
Mental breakdown, a prelude to midlife crisis (albeit 25 years earlier) is beginning to freak me out – and some of us too, whether we admit to it or not. Going through the experience in MCKK, somehow we fickle minded people were imbued with this idea of grandeur, that once you stepped out of the school into the real world, you would belong to something much bigger. The saddest thing about the whole journey is that as you go along, you have to keep adjusting your idea of greatness and how you fit in the grand scheme of things with reality – and sometimes the reality is pretty pathetic. Every MCKK boy will have to come to terms one day with what is best coined by Cat Steven in Father and Son:
“... you may still be here tomorrow, but your dreams may not..”
Enter mental breakdown and crisis – taking myself as a specimen, it has been a very long while since I last remember being genuinely happy. In fact it has been more than 10 years. Whatever came through after that, was laughed about superficially – it never touched my inner self, something went missing a long time ago. Perhaps that’s the price you pay for growing up, that without the innocence inherent with young age, you grew cynical about things around you. When cynicism has taken over yourself, nothing excites you anymore (sexual excitement is a completely different thing, not referring to that). Which brings you to the next question – where from here? Contentment – define contentment?
There were times that I envy people like Fly – so calm and so in control of himself, so contented with what he has. He does not have to go through this cyclical mental breakdown when you try to find that missing piece in your life, the answer that will push away the gloom, the clue that gives the meaning to this life – like some of us who have to go through this periodically (but then again Fly is so contented with a pair of watchful eyes for his Indonesian maid ha ha ha, so understandable laaa..)
I have less than twelve hours to get out of this state of despair, lest it takes over the new week. But as much as I sit down quietly in front of my laptop staring endlessly to God knows what looking for an answer – each time this happens, there has always been one constant in the parameters.
I don’t make many new friends since 1994 – those who are so close to me are the same people from the previous decade. Those few people had put up with me all this while, and even at 5 am in the morning they continue to put up with me now when I am reaching 30 (and still mentally unstable) – I’d be arrogant and ungrateful if I say I am not touched. In fact, they are becoming more and more experienced counsellors since more and more of our close circle of friends (referred by Fadli as “true friends” ha ha) are going “sewel” (to use Allen’s description).
So to commemorate almost 2 decades of friendship, laughters and tears – we are going to organise a reminiscence of Jita’s BNB very soon. During mid and late 90s, staying up at night at Jita's apartment in London, playing cards, “tell all” session, kutuk session etc. were a must during holidays, and I miss them so much. We have all moved to different directions since, it’s been almost 5 years since the last reunion in Earl’s Court – so perhaps it is high time to relive that. Once in a while we need to take a step back and see what we have left, so that we can treasure what we still have.
Those who are so used to spend eternity menghabiskan bogheh kat apartment Jita dulu, please contact me.
“ ... You may still be here tomorrow, but your dreams may not..”