I don't know how much longer I could continue to abuse my body. Screwed up body clock, lack of quality sleep, irregular meals, constant bending and heavy lifting, nicotine, caffeine. Circadian rhythm no longer exist in my dictionary.

And yet, everytime I wake up and open my eyes, the body's recovery ability never cease to amaze me. The lung continues to pump air normally, the hair continues to grow, the skin doesn't look as pasty as it looked yesterday, wounds continue to heal themselves.

My mental health is old though. That pressurized tube is more like a pressure cooker. Passengers indefinitely find ways to increase my blood pressure a few notch everytime.

I now suffer from forgetfulness. I used to have good memory which I'm proud of, now I'm struggling to remember names and words. I can't even memorise song lyrics as fast as I used to. That realisation is such a blow because I'm a bloody jukebox ok!

It's worse when I'm all alone at home. There's this heavy feeling that sneaks in and settle at the pit of my stomach. It just stays there and refuses to budge no matter how hard I nudge it. That heavy, sinking feeling. Retail therapy used to offer some comfort. But no longer. The sudden rush of euphoria is getting more shortlived. And soon after I'm back to feeling hollow inside.

I was telling Adik Tju the other day that I wanted to take, I don't know, maybe 2-3 months of unpaid leave and go to some far flung place for volunteering works. She looked at me like I was mad. This world I'm living in is too make-believe. I need to get in touch with reality.

I know. I scared even myself with my thoughts sometimes.