Sleepless nights

It's the middle of the night and I can't sleep... I woke up with a start from some sort of strange dream an hour ago and since then I have been tossing and turning... but sleep eludes me, still. I'll probably pay the price later on when I have to drag myself into work with bleary eyes.

I haven't had a decent night's sleep in about a week.

As I lay on the bed earlier, my thoughts drifted back on my time in Peru, and suddenly I was missing the wandering across the Unforgivable Land (as I came to call it for myself in the midst of illness while travelling there)... I saw myself sitting on these night buses all over again, watching distant lights rush past me until suddenly night had fallen like a black curtain all around. I remembered the sickness, and how in spite of it I continued my journey to reach Machu Picchu. I had to. It was probably the fever talking, but I really began to identify with the Inca, or perhaps what I understood to be the core of their spirit - which to me was that of seeking perfection using rather Spartan ways at times. How could I not relate to that?

Oh, I miss Peru. I miss trekking across what feels like the unknown, challenging myself and the elements even if I have no clue whether I'll make it alive on the other side or not...

As cliché as this may sound, my wandering steps across that distant land now fees more like some sort of strange pilgrimage on a personal level whose impact has yet to be defined or discerned on a conscious level. All I know is that I can close my eyes and be there as if I'd only left yesterday...

But the sleepless nights themselves, well... they are part and parcel of 'modern' living, I suppose. The stress of office-bound routines, having to mingle with fellow rat-race prisoners under the constant strain of a claustrophobic atmosphere where staring at a screen all day long without moving much from your seat (because unless you're a smoker, you just 'forget' to take a break) is the approved norm... and they call this life. No, actually, it is worse than that: we all know it's bad and shouldn't be like that yet we feel obliged to comply because somewhere down the line each of us will have sold ourselves to the system, one way or another. The only man who is free is the one who needs nothing from the system; I am not sure such a man exists anymore. We're all slaves. And even those who aren't enslaved to others are probably enslaved to their endless wants spawned by a void inside that cannot be filled by material things.

On another note, they say it is better to have loved or to have felt than not, but I beg to differ. I still think it is better not to have known. It is always easier that way because once you know or experience something it can never be undone - it can only be healed by time, thus always leaving scars behind.