the potion

He held out the potion, and I took it from his hand. It was clear liquid in a tall, slim glass. Elegant, yet understated. My notion told me to take it all in a gulp. I was about to, but he tugged my arm, and said, "Go slow. Don't spill."

I took it in. The first sip burnt my lips a little.

Slowly, I felt the potion running through my body. It ran down my throat. I felt this strong, powerful gush in me and all of a sudden, I couldn't breathe.

Sip, by sip, by sip.

It passed my heart - damn, that hurt. I could feel it trickling down my arms, numbing my fingers. It went through my stomach. I could feel the butterflies flying amock.

And another sip.

Down to my thighs, then my knees. My toes curled up as I felt it settling. I felt weak.

I passed the empty glass back to him. And he asked, "Would you like some more?"

I said, "Yes, please."

He went to the room from where he came earlier. And from where I was, I saw a room of stacks and stacks full of this potion. "No. 6, that's what they call it."

And then I thought, what he has in store, can definitely last me a whole lifetime.

- Trinny Nichols

take my hand

What happened at work in the past week was like a repeat of my junior year in college. A complete replay but all within five days. But take out the fun, take out the frivolity and leave everything to stay the same. The other exception would be, in junior year, I actually had an anticipation of a milestone that was vivid and definite. But today, I am ten times more tired and ten times more drained. But the next milestone seems distant and hazy, and putting it down on paper doesn't make it any clearer. But what scares me even more is that this milestone is still unknown. And I'm sounding even more and more like a broken record, each day asking myself who do I want to be in the future? Seriously. Who do I want to be in the future?

I feel like I'm pushing myself to the edge of the cliff here. I feel like I'm testing my limits - thinking that a little more won't hurt. I feel like I'm always getting myself confused between exhaustion and satisfaction. And soon, I will break down and crumble into pieces. And when I take that last train home, finally recapitulating on a long day that's passed and when I get my moment to ask myself, "was it all worth it?", what if the answer is a resounding no?

But even in the slightest discontent, you soldier on. Because there is always something within you that gives you that much needed adrenaline no matter how trifling that may be. A voice that says everything is going to be okay. That confidence - even if that makes you look like an idiot amongst those who do it effortlessly - you pick it up from where you left off and soldier on anyway. And like the words of Meredith Grey - why do I keep knocking myself with a hammer?

Because it feels so damn good when I stop.