A Threesome with Death

I have recently started a new ritual. Every night before falling asleep, I hold a blunt knife against my wrist. I know my anatomy well, at least the at risk areas and how deep the cut needs to be for any actual damage. So with a blunt knife, even if I snap, I’ll survive. Because I don’t want to die, I never wanted to die.

And yet having my life standing on that edge brings me peace. The voices go away and the world gets smaller. Suddenly the world is just my wrist, the knife and death. The knife teasing my wrist with death waiting to get her share.

I have never wished for death but she is still the closest possible existence to what I want. And so I get swayed. The realization that what I want is not possible leads to my moments of weakness and the exhaustion just makes me want to settle. But the thing with delusional people, just as realizations hit suddenly, the delusions take over. And I hope, hope that maybe if I live long enough, my wishes will come true.

With the blunt knife against my wrist, every night I let my madness crawl. Sometimes it escapes in the form of tears, sometimes giggles, sometimes apathy. But it never leaves me for my body seems to pull it all back in when I put the knife down. Ahh the sweet taste of cowardice!

Thunderclouds

A soft growl. A rumble. A roar. And then a murderous screech. Today, the thunderclouds that often seemed angry felt like they were in pain.

Thunderclouds can’t speak, they can’t put their feelings into words. All they can do is make sounds that are often related with one emotion: anger. But is that all they can feel? I wonder.

Today was like always. Like always, the gloom spread across the sky hinting that the heavens would cry again. Like always, there were flashes of light every other minute, cutting through the darkness that would have otherwise swallowed us whole. Like always, the subtle wind was breezing through the gaps between our bare skin and the fabric that is supposed to keep them safe; sending shivers down our spines. Like always, the heavy thunderclouds roamed the empty space ready to pour down at command of the skies.

But today, the sounds felt different. Today, the growl seemed a little sad. Today, the rumble felt a little anxious. Today, I could hear the hurt in the roar. Today, I sensed fear in the screech. Today, I saw shades in the monochrome. And, it felt different.

So, what is it? Have I started understanding the language of the heavens or is this what people simply call projecting?

A bit broken, a little unstable and a complete mess

I am 24 and I have never known happiness
I know what you’re thinking, ain’t that too bold a statement?
I mean, you must have felt happiness some time
That time when you were a class topper and were showered with compliments
That one time you found a dress that perfectly complimented your figure
Or the time when you received your first “Thank You”
Your first kiss
Your first tick on that bucket list
That time your eyes incidentally met those of a cute stranger and he gave you that shy smile
Your first salary
Your first award
Your first recognition
Isn’t not knowing happiness too bold a claim?

Well yes, I’ve been there, all those places
Places where I was showered with appreciation and gratitude and all I could do was put up my fakest smile
Places where my eyes dreamt of love but all I did was bite my lip to suppress that cry for help
Places where my compentency was proven and rewarded but my immediate action was to stash it away and never look at it again
Oh yes, it’s true, I have indeed felt happiness

I am like you, another human being with the same basic biological build up
A being that evolved to develop these stuff called emotions
But you see, feeling and knowing the feeling are just not the same
Just like feeling love and knowing you love someone are completely different

I’ve felt anger, I’ve felt sadness and yes, I’ve felt “happiness” too
I’ve felt pain, I’ve felt joy, I’ve felt hopelessness too
But I can’t explain them to you
We all seek happiness, it’s true and I suppose I pursue it too
But I can’t remember what happiness feels like
My brain a jumbled lump when someone asks what my happy place is
A bit broken, a little unstable and a complete mess
You see, I am 24 and I have never known happiness

Aurora’s Slumber: An Eternal Curse

I was getting better. A lot of things were still murky in a lot of places but I sure was getting better.

It was a long wait. After all, I had forgotten what happiness felt like, even doubting whether such a thing had ever existed in my life before. For all those memories that were stored in my happy place had stopped sparking any emotion within me and I could not comprehend why I stored them at all. And then, that day, I felt it, a nostalgic warmth engulfing me, awakening me from my deep slumber. “Ahhhh Happiness.” I had finally remembered.

Days became brighter. For the first time (as far as I could remember), the sun stopped hurting me and I had this sudden urge to escape my own darkness. For the first time, I seeked light and yes, the light was beautiful. For the first time, I felt alive.

And the days passed by. The murky river became clearer, the puzzle pieces started fitting together. I was getting better.

And then, just like it had appeared, the light disappeared. Happiness now feels like a memory of an old dream and red marks have appeared on my white skin yet again. And just like I had risen, I have fallen back into my slumber of darkness.

A flickering light, a cursed soul, a diminishing desire. The wheel of the spindle turns and the curse takes a new form and I now know the wheel will keep turning, for enternity.

Hanging by a Thread

All these years I have never had a problem falling asleep. Except when I was caffeinated of course. With all the guilt, the hatred, the pain I have collected within myself over these years, although they made me dysfunctional in a number of ways, they never barred me from falling asleep for sleep was my only escape from all these needless whispers, these unclear, needless words floating in my head. People envied this ability of mine, close your eyes and almost a minute later, venture to a place where theories of time and space were no longer relevant. But guess people envied it a little bit too much for now, I’ve lost it. The one temporary exit I had, I’ve lost.

And then the nightmares start. While the brain’s wide awake, the nightmares start. A nightmare where I’m hanging by a thread, a thread that’ll snap and I’ll stab. In the silence of the night, these whispers become loud and clear as they take the shape of a heart that struggles to beat, of nails that struggle to not hurt the body they are a part of, of fists that struggle to not hit the beats out of the heart.

And every night, I lose this war and maybe because I lose it, at some point, I gradually drift to sleep and finally, go back to the place where I belong.

The seconds behind my ‘Fashionably Late’

It’s a beautiful day today. The sun’s high, the air’s fresh, the sky a beautiful shade of blue. I need to get to work by 10 and for the first time, I could actually make it. Every thing has been fitting perfectly today like the pieces of a puzzle and I have never felt better. Today is going to be an amazing day.

It’s 9:15 on the clock. It takes me 15 minutes to reach my workplace. I got enough time. I pick up my phone, start scrolling and lie down on my bed fully dressed. I scroll and scroll and scroll. By now, I don’t even know what I am looking at, just endless scrolling, in hopes that these posts of random people would fill the hole that was slowly widening up in my chest. But it doesn’t. The hole keeps widening and widening and widening. Amazing how things always wind up in the exact opposite direction of how you intend them to be.

I look up, 9:35, I can still make it. The endless scrolling isn’t helping so I just turn up the music, curl up in a ball and hold my chest tight, anything to stop that void trying to swallow me whole. And I cry. Not cry exactly but gentle sobs, a hopeless effort to wash it all away for even tears seem to betray me at times like these.

9:45. I pull myself up, takes every last drop of energy within me but I pull myself up, look in the mirror, fix myself up, plaster a smile on my face and leave for work. I speed on my way, maybe the wind will blow it away. I reach work, take out my phone, check the time, 10:05. Well, late again.

He gives me anxiety and I don’t know why.

I see him twice a week. Each time for only those two hours when he is in front of me, speaking to me words of knowledge, most of which just pass right over my head. After and before those two hours, it’s like he does not even exist, those two hours feeling like just a figment of my imagination.

His appearance whether in front of the white board looking completely clueless as to the effects he has on my mind and body or in a distant corner of my never resting brain puts in motion a number of physiological reactions I have no control over. My legs feel heavier making it so much harder to move which is followed by a burning pit in my chest, the hole feeling like it’s widening by the second. I feel light-headed, maybe because in his presence I forget how to breathe, my body just waiting for the signal to leave everything and collapse. But I am calm on the exterior, my face never giving up even the slightest of hints as to the battle unfolding inside. Nonetheless, all this leads to one inevitable situation, one which even my years and years of experience with anxiety couldn’t hide: A complete and utter loss of words, an inability to speak.

Even with symptoms so clear, one thing still remains shrouded in mystery: The reason behind the reason. Even my best two options could not justify this situation because love, love has made me lightheaded but this lightheadedness was a result of too much blood rushing to my head, leading to traces of a subtle blush, too difficult to notice on my dark skin. Because fear, fear has dug a deep hole in my chest but this hole has suffocated me to the brink of death and thrown me in a frenzy of hyperventilation.

This, however, is different. His presence makes me forget how to breathe but does not suffocate me almost feeling like love. His presence makes the blood rush out of my face almost feeling like fear. A feeling whose existence I’ve started to question, the reactions feeling almost forced. Guess this ‘almost’ will be a problem even I won’t be able to solve.

What Caffeine Does to Me and Why I Still Depend on It.

It’s 12:30 A.M. I just finished my due work, set my alarm and now can snuggle into my warm bed. Tired, I fall on the bed in hopes of drifting off to sleep. It was 1:30 A.M. when the slightest traces of sleep finally decided to pay me a visit.

I wake up to a faint sound of tic-tic. Another cockroach. Not actually scared of them but not a big fan of catching them or hacking them to death either. So it took me around 5 minutes to go back to sleep again. I checked the clock, force of habit, 2:30 A.M. Exact one hour differences, coincidence?

That’s when the pain started. It wasn’t like the usual pain for it didn’t hurt at all. At all. I just felt empty. Like a few organs of my body had been taken out. I felt light yet extremely heavy for I couldn’t fathom whatever it was that was happening to my body. I could walk, I could see, my balance was fine yet something was missing, something huge, something I couldn’t put a finger on.

It’s 3:30 A.M. I feel better but am still unable to sleep. This might go on for a while I guess. Maybe this will add on to the list of countless other sleepless nights.

The effect of caffeine hasn’t always been this way on me. There was a time when I drank coffee just for the taste of it. Café Mocha during winters, Iced Mocha during summer. Well, I just love chocolate *insert nervous emoji*. But it hasn’t been the same lately. This dependancy has moved just a step further from a mere liking, it has become a need, one I cannot do without.
Or maybe I can. Maybe it’s just that the fight will be harder, more difficult without it and maybe it’s the realization of having the slightest chance of losing that I chose the easier path. But I guess easy paths do not come without consequences. It’s just that this time, the consequences came as physical blows rather than emotional ones.
Surely, I’ve made promises to myself about this one being the last batch, that I’ll be stronger from tomorrow, that I will leave and never look back. But the thing about dependancy? It’s not as easy to leave behind as it feels. A habit etched into the deep, an unforgettable memory.

The first rays of the early morning light shine through my curtains. 6:13 A.M. Ahh, the coincidences did come to an end. Another day to live, another battle to fight. Guess it isn’t my time to die yet.