Not eliciting sympathy! Not! Not!

I was ill yesterday. It was my tummy again. Eating foods I shouldn't be eating. These warned by doctors earlier and also a combination of other factors.
But the good thing is that illness visits like a Halloween surprise. It disappears from the scene as mysteriously as it appears, even if it was to hound and plague my senses for as long as it dared.
I hold my breath and count to ten.
I drifted in and out of sleep. It was on feeling better in the afternoon, that I made an important self-discovery.
When I awoke and life felt kinder, the first thing I wanted to do was carry on reading Alessandro Manzoni with a relish.
And I had a strong desire. To want to write all kinds of things without stopping.

I hadn't felt this way in a long time.

In the 5+ years that I was stalked by a woman in Australia/UK, my mind knotted itself into a dark cloud. I think it's important to talk about this and not to playact it didn't happen. After all, the stalking episode measured my destiny in a monumental way.

During that time, I couldn' t write a single thing. Also, I remembered reading and discovering Polynesian writers and buying several books which all still lie in a friend's flat in London. But none of the stories did anything for me. My mind at the time was constantly filled with a fear of what she would do next.

None of the stories moved me or inspired me to dream. Reading helped keep my spirit alert until it was all over.

Today, my subsconscious shuts out all my reads of the time and if it wants to jolt a memory, a sweet moment or a touch of magic, I remember reads before the time of the stalking.

When I woke up yesterday, wanting to devour Manzoni with my whole heart, wanting to write like this was the best medicine in the spiritual cabinet, I knew I was psychologically healed and on my way to reclaiming my perfect destiny again. I knew that from now, my reads would once more shape my spirit and alight it with stardust.