Desolation, despair, desertion, dereliction…
These are the contemplations I face swarming upon the departures gate to my depressive state.
Anguish, agitation, alarm, apprehension…
These are the deliberations I face crowded, circling about the arrivals gate upon my return.
Perfidious, pernicious, perilous, pain…
These are the encounters I face at customs, abundant in fury, raging in startling panic.
Ominous, omnipotent, onerous, oppression…
These are the conflicts I face, consistent with an inner crusade of obsession lingering outside baggage claim.
Depression, Anxiety, Obsession, Panic.
The words alone unfathomable to comprehend.
I sit alone, isolated in my personal airport of fear.
Fearful of the society I co-inhabit.
Fearful of the prejudice I may witness,
Fearful of abhorrence towards my hidden struggles.
I sit alone, desperate to reach out for support,
Support that pays no discrimination, no hate, no repulsion.
Support that has no limits or boundaries.
Support that helps.
Progress, Acceptance, Advancement, Comfort.
These are the antonyms I long await to meet.
For I have been dealt these paradigms,
A life riddled with unsettling uncertainty,
No comfort from society and healthcare,
No one to aid my beckoning cry for help.
But I am paradoxically optimistic.
For I hope to visualise the next generation of healthcare providers, support workers – people,
To speak out against society's perspectives on expressing emotion,
Safeguarding the vulnerable and in need,
The beginning of an accepting world.
This is the place I want to reside.
Not secluded, withering away in my quarantined state of mind.
This is the place I want to be.
Not frightened, panicked and alone.
This is the place I want to become reality.
Reality. Realistic?
eLetters
No eLetters have been published for this article.