I haven’t felt like this in a very long time. Heavy heart, clouded mind, unbearable fatigue of unknown origins, and unwanted drowsiness combined and mixed with intoxicants, I feel like a time bomb that will only lead to hurt when it explodes. The last time I had felt anything close to this was when my sister had died. Ah, what a day that was. I absolutely enjoyed every newly inflicted scar on my soul, which is already broken beyond repair. After all, you can’t break something twice before it heals. Mine never heals, it breaks repeatedly, and a part of my soul gets lost into the endless abyss every time.
I have always been much introverted about my mental issues. I like to observe people closely. Let them have a taste of my emotions, and in reaction to that, whatever I get, I watch and analyze it. And very early in my life, I had realized that no one cares about what you are going through. Absolutely no one! Everyone has their own issues that dictate their life and personality. Why would they even care about yours, right? There may exist a rare percentage of statistical outliers to that statement, but that margin is more irregular than a hunter stumbling upon a white elephant. I tried to teach myself to avoid trying to earn sympathy. Everyone hates a “pity beggar”. This dystopia of ours socially euthanizes weak people, discards them like biodegradable trash, and the lowest of them is pity beggars, including me. I am one of them. I try to control it absolutely with my soul, but sometimes, sometimes I slip. And the most hurt I have ever caused myself was in such vulnerable times.
Deep in the nights, when the darkness surrounds me from all sides, I forget about my vows of not to hunt for sympathy and try to grab anything, follow any light. The most brutal joke fate plays with me then is that at the end of the tunnel, most times, there stand people who are cruel. The ray of hope shape-shifts so quickly that it’s scary. They pull you out, smile at you only to just push you further back in. some does it consciously, some do it out of fear that this desperation is contagious, and some just do it because it’s fun. But sometimes, on rare occasions, there comes a few, only a few throughout your life, who try to actually pull you out. Some get lucky, and some don’t have the strength, but they try anyway. I’ve managed to meet them all, one of them very recently, yet salvation seems to be only a distant possibility. Maybe it will never come.
I came to this world on a winter night in late December. My mum told me that it was a frigid winter. To keep me warm, she would light coals at nights, put them under the bed, and then lay down with me while holding me tight. So that I don’t catch a cold. And in day times, my sister used to put me inside her sweaters made of wool. These two most influential women in my life had always protected me, protected this ugly good for nothing permanently depressed kid, and now one of them isn’t here anymore. It has been more than two years, yet at times I forget that she is not here. When the sudden realization takes over, and I fail to feel her presence, I get these uncontrollable surges of emotions that lead me to do stupid things that I’m not proud of, like writing this bleak and absurd piece, perhaps. But I have to type it away. This helps a bit.
I have sought salvation. Time and time again, I’ve tried to find it. But it’s elusive, always escapes me when I get so close to it, so close that I can even touch it. Right then and there, it vanishes, hides and shoves me into another loop. I had found it again. This time it almost came into my grasp. And then it told me that it was not for me. It is waiting there for someone else. And now I’m inside another loop. I had asked it about why it hates me so much. What could I have possibly done to enrage it so much that it doesn’t want to be mine? It looked at me, smiled and had let me know that birds born in December aren’t supposed to exist in a human world. Their calling lies in the deeps! That’s where they are supposed to be. That’s the purpose of their life. And now, after resisting and trying so many times, even though I am so close, I give up. Being inside this eternal solitude of mine, inside this maze of 500 walls for so long again and again that I am now used to it. The worst thing lady fate couldve done was to push her away from me. but now i undestand, she was never here in the first place! Now I have given my salvation the permission to leave too. Who knows, someone else might get saved in the process, eh!
Hmmm this was sad to read.