00:11
Courage, help, I cannot do this alone. For this mistake I must atone, atone for my folly,
my crime of being jolly, of celebrating too soon, when instead I should have kept seeing
the moon.
Night after night the moon shone bright, clear in the sky, all darkly alone, that light,
as she scoured and scraped, tore the code into pieces, yet all seemed for naught as
she herself fell to pieces.
She was not alone, not the first grad to experience. The defeat by her code or her research quite
deepened, the wound in her pride and others besides, which further blinded her eyes to
the error inside. So she hunted back further, tried to locate the course, the reason she
may have floundered so as to catch the error at its source.
Was it back then, when the loop left my mind, in that brief moment of distraction, as I
was deep in the grind, as little Mipsy, my kitten, played around with my cup, only to
find out that gravity does not go up?
A mewling, a meowing, from behind gets my ear, and soon starts a tear, followed soon
by many more, as I slump to the floor.
Mipsy comes to my aid, the soft tail stood up high, a greeting that made my heart lift
to the sky.
It's not your fault, is it, Mipsy Bear? I said, while stroking her fluffy tufts of hair
on her ears as she curled in my lap, perhaps in comfort, or to take a nap.
This carefree cat brought me back to my senses, a brief moment in which I had lowered my defences.
I saw quite clearly that this code was not me, nor I was this code, and thus it could
not thwart who I be.
The code was part of a process on the road to the end, but mistakes would happen, even
just around the bend. I could still feel the shame, the regret, the guilt, all of which
were sourced mostly outside of myself. But it's not a dead end, I know it and I don't.
03:00
I know I can reach out to others, but I won't because I'm frightened. Still, as that noose
feels like it tightens and yanks me, might toss me, and leave me outside in the dark,
as the fears become words, in my mind I recite them. But what if they don't help? What if
they don't want to help? What if I'm shunned, shamed, seen as deranged, a label, worthless,
flamed, in my mind my vision bright, searing across my eyes' range? Why bother to help
when they themselves are struggling? Am I just a burden, not able to be helped? Mipsy purrs
in my lap, as if to negate these rots. And now my mind fills with quieter and gentler
thoughts. I'd help another, so why wouldn't they? I trust my lab-mates and my friends
to say kind words, and to even cheer me on my way. Perhaps, just maybe, I can do it.
I can say, I sat at my desk, nearing evening once more, when my lab-mate, my friend, comes
knocking at my door. A tap on my desk, and my attention snaps up, from the floor to her
eyes, worry having built up. Are you OK? she says, with care, warmly flowing from her to
my stare. Mine, full of fear, but now mixed with hope, as the glimmer of aid loosens that
rope on my mind. I can do this, I assure the voices, to remind them that I am worthy of
the space of this time. I look at my friend, and say those weighty words. Actually, I need
help. Can you help me? Are you absurd? That voice of fear gets one last whisper, as my
friend quickly answers, of course, and lends me her ear. I've made a mistake, and I don't
know what to do. With bravery I share, from the joy to the shock, to the pain of revealing
my error, the fear of being mocked. Nary a beat, and my friend is sat next to me, lending
an ear, and an eye, and her mind, to support me. She held no judgment, no shame, no leer,
06:00
just understanding and care, as I voiced my mind, my feelings, my fears. And the world
seemed to brighten, just a tad, in the dark of the evening, with the moon shining brightly
overhead.
