Sickness

Well... Why ? Why is it that all your efforts go vain ? Why does it have to be so difficult to deal with every time ? They say after a while you accept the pain as a part of you and start to live with it as if it is the only thing that is purely yours and no one else has got a say in that. But is it truly the only case ? Does this heartache and an empty numb body mean nothing after a point ? Is this world just too harsh or I am just too weak ? Is happy really an emotion or I am filled too much with sadness ? I don't know and maybe even you are unaware...

It's not as easy as you think. There are days. There are days when people cry themselves to the loudest of their voice but still mouth covered with hands in between the washroom walls ; the best listener to their non sense of all times, isn't it ? There are days when they constantly stare at the wall. No not dancing to their own tunes but carrying the heavy weights of words. Words that some never tasted before spitting out and assumed that the criticism would strengthen an individual. Little did they know, they murdered dreams, they murdered hopes, trust, love, friendships, ambitions, passions and strangely they murdered many real faces. There are days, days when they know that something productive has to be done. Something that takes them closer to what they want to be but stone dead they lay with body paralyzed and mind and heart at a war that they aren't just not worth anything anymore.

It's the consecutive chain of failures that pile up beside them as if it is their identity. It is their reality, nothing but just a zero. A fail. A loser. They are chained to their own destruction. No, they don't fear the world anymore. They fear themselves. Gradually, the scars moved from heart to hands but it doesn't stop hurting. They are caged. Caged in the feelings of self-hate and self-doubt reluctant to set them free, reluctant to give up on one their most loyal prey. But no matter what, let it be a shining sun or a setting one they do have few friends like no other who always stood by their side in every turn of their life. No we may not see them cause they exist only in their brain. We name them Demons ! Yes, the most loyal friends of all times. They control them just like puppets and they rely on them for their every movement, for their every decision. We might say that they are just illusions made by a human mind to play the blame game. But hey... even rainbows disappear after rains then why don't demons ?Life is a beautiful struggle, but not everyone is a warrior, not everyone is a survivor. There is a constant battle every night whether to tear apart their wrists with the blade ready to thrive through or to wait and look at the world once again. Look at all those who are still fighting though unsure of their win, after all not everyone chooses to die. Die ? Yes, definitely suicide which for you maybe a mere seven lettered word described as the act of killing oneself intentionally, but for some it's the word in which the whole of people's pain can be summed up.Suicide is just not  a word, it's the grief when you see the truest version of yourself dead. It's that ocean of guilt you drown in. That cycle of self-hate and self- doubt you live in. It's the terror you feel when your wrist tears apart oozing blood. It's the suffocation you feel when the rope hanging from the ceiling tightens. They are sick. Sick of all those who say that it's just your mindset. Fuck it ! When you haven't read the book, don't judge it either. It's fucking life and not your mathematics class where you can make assumptions and derive someone else's answer. As i already told you, they are sick of how underestimated the pain is. Kind of sick that will be unnoticed till dead

.
.
.
~ Yashasvi Bhati
picture from Pinterest