Whine, Wine.
The boy looked at the label again. Cabernet Sauvignon, Vin De Pays D’OC, Barton and Guestier, 2000. It wasn’t exactly a fine wine, it wasn’t even chilled…he had found it in his father’s cabinet of wine and liqueur. But that bears no significance for it’s drinker who only wished to abuse it for its alcoholic content. They say a man who abuses his drinks more than savours it is more lustful than loving. How he wished he could tell everyone in the whole wide world that they did not fully understand Depression like how he did not understand the pleasures of wine drinking.
He didn’t particularly like the word Depression. It was too sombre a word to use for his condition. He could still drag his weary body to school, he could still attend lectures, he could still swim as much as he wished with precision of his strokes, he could still live everyday as it was meant to be. But he did not know what it was meant to be. And thus, when this feeling of hopelessness and disparity strikes, he knows that it is a passing bout of what people term as Depression. It was like an asthmatic patient who knew of his condition yet being unable to foresee when the chronic illness would attack at his lungs. By the way, the boy was asthmatic just as well.
Everything was much as it was yesterday. The stillness of the pool combined seamlessly with the rustling of the palm trees, and its overall effect was one of tranquillity and serenity. What is inherently different, is the boy’s emotions. He had brought with him the negativity of yesterday into today. He utterly regretted it, but his greater remorse lies in not being able to put a halt to it. It was like seeing an ominous premonition and yet being unable to delay or prevent its manifestation.
The pizza delivery arrived. His hunger ceased. The dose of Ventolin arrived. His breathlessness ceased. His friend arrived with a bag of smiles and cheerful optimism. His sluggish emotions ceased. But when he heard the melody of ‘Electric Dreams’ on his iPod shuffle, his tears flowed again. This time, it flowed uncontrollably, as if the invisible dam of pride had been broken. Yes, a man cries when he is feeling low. Much less to say, a boy. But again, he couldn’t figure out what he was crying for or why in Jesus’ sacred name was he crying in the first place.
He had learnt that in business cycles, a peak residing at the highest point would eventually deteriorate to the lowest trough. The journey of his own roller-coaster of emotions could be plotted with such a sine graph. His emotions were not wine. Bad, repressed memories would not ferment like a vintage wine. It would slowly rot and decline, feeding on the storage of happier moments until the decay final consumed every inch of obscure incident of bliss. The happiness that he sought now, would only pay the interest for the debts of his previous mis-endeavours. The chart spiralled endlessly downwards…
Yet he refused to bow down to the trivialities which annoyed him. Why should one cheap slut determine the way he should live his life? Why should an inanimate piece of machinery preclude his levels of happiness? Why should a barbaric beast which seems to bark at goodness knows what disturb his quest for the truth in life? He was so close now, what could possibly stop him except himself. The boy calmly repeated to himself that he was stronger than that. Stronger than that. Much stronger than that.
So he watched a music video of a sassy Korean singer. Her more perfect than life mien and groovy dance moves cheered him up instantly. It made him realise that when the prospects of a heavy, hollow future seem too much to endure, perhaps it is time to resume the simple pleasures of the present which he had taken for granted. It was escapism. It was living in renewed hope.
The red wine lost its sourness and acidity. It was light, spicy, with raspberry and red currant aromas and an elegant finish; and probably the best which could go with his Hawaiian Supreme pizza. With his hunger and asthma gone, now all he needed to battle with was his childish insecurities which had made him weep.
But as the boy emptied the remains of the bottle of wine, his depression was already gone. Why should he be in low spirits when every day was practically a day in his eternal summer vacation? The sun was up, the girls were there, the boozing was great, Electric Dreams was playing…it was time for a swim.
He didn’t particularly like the word Depression. It was too sombre a word to use for his condition. He could still drag his weary body to school, he could still attend lectures, he could still swim as much as he wished with precision of his strokes, he could still live everyday as it was meant to be. But he did not know what it was meant to be. And thus, when this feeling of hopelessness and disparity strikes, he knows that it is a passing bout of what people term as Depression. It was like an asthmatic patient who knew of his condition yet being unable to foresee when the chronic illness would attack at his lungs. By the way, the boy was asthmatic just as well.
Everything was much as it was yesterday. The stillness of the pool combined seamlessly with the rustling of the palm trees, and its overall effect was one of tranquillity and serenity. What is inherently different, is the boy’s emotions. He had brought with him the negativity of yesterday into today. He utterly regretted it, but his greater remorse lies in not being able to put a halt to it. It was like seeing an ominous premonition and yet being unable to delay or prevent its manifestation.
The pizza delivery arrived. His hunger ceased. The dose of Ventolin arrived. His breathlessness ceased. His friend arrived with a bag of smiles and cheerful optimism. His sluggish emotions ceased. But when he heard the melody of ‘Electric Dreams’ on his iPod shuffle, his tears flowed again. This time, it flowed uncontrollably, as if the invisible dam of pride had been broken. Yes, a man cries when he is feeling low. Much less to say, a boy. But again, he couldn’t figure out what he was crying for or why in Jesus’ sacred name was he crying in the first place.
He had learnt that in business cycles, a peak residing at the highest point would eventually deteriorate to the lowest trough. The journey of his own roller-coaster of emotions could be plotted with such a sine graph. His emotions were not wine. Bad, repressed memories would not ferment like a vintage wine. It would slowly rot and decline, feeding on the storage of happier moments until the decay final consumed every inch of obscure incident of bliss. The happiness that he sought now, would only pay the interest for the debts of his previous mis-endeavours. The chart spiralled endlessly downwards…
Yet he refused to bow down to the trivialities which annoyed him. Why should one cheap slut determine the way he should live his life? Why should an inanimate piece of machinery preclude his levels of happiness? Why should a barbaric beast which seems to bark at goodness knows what disturb his quest for the truth in life? He was so close now, what could possibly stop him except himself. The boy calmly repeated to himself that he was stronger than that. Stronger than that. Much stronger than that.
So he watched a music video of a sassy Korean singer. Her more perfect than life mien and groovy dance moves cheered him up instantly. It made him realise that when the prospects of a heavy, hollow future seem too much to endure, perhaps it is time to resume the simple pleasures of the present which he had taken for granted. It was escapism. It was living in renewed hope.
The red wine lost its sourness and acidity. It was light, spicy, with raspberry and red currant aromas and an elegant finish; and probably the best which could go with his Hawaiian Supreme pizza. With his hunger and asthma gone, now all he needed to battle with was his childish insecurities which had made him weep.
But as the boy emptied the remains of the bottle of wine, his depression was already gone. Why should he be in low spirits when every day was practically a day in his eternal summer vacation? The sun was up, the girls were there, the boozing was great, Electric Dreams was playing…it was time for a swim.
posted by sUmmEr heAt at 7:00 AM
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