There’s no shame in tears. This is easier said than ‘done’.
I don’t know, the hell of a day I survived, the emotions I went through, the thoughts I had and things I read and watched.
I couldn’t figure out whether I was empowered or trampled by my own fate.
Every moment today, I stared at me, trying to smile; waiting for someone to wave their hands, frantically egged the apps on my mobile phone to see a silver lining.
I had just one meal, just my breakfast because I’m confined to this room, all by myself, without much courage to walk to the kitchen.
I sit naive, thinking about everything that I’m and I’m not yet I feel I deserve nothing but scorn and contempt.
I thought about ending it. I seriously did.
I recalled everything from the beginning of the day to the end of my zealous nature.
I thought I shouldn’t whine over things and make anything dramatic. Or to open the social media to post everything ridiculous as I normally do. But I was helpless.
Think about that, helpless even to die. This is been a tough day, I know. But this is the sample of days I’m going to have in the future.
I’m going to be like this, with so many questions and confusions.
As other people make their lives pretty and daring, I’ll be left in the lurches, buried by past, unmoving, solemn…
It’s like I have got a rock placed on my chest. I could barely breathe. I could barely stand and ask for even a single glass of water.
I don’t know what the survival rate of my decisions. I don’t know how long I’m going to live. I know these are guttural-voices.
I’ll be alright tomorrow, the day after it and the day after it…
But, when you there, in that point, where you think everything is dumb, that your identity is ‘mutilated’, I don’t know, sometimes people call it quits because they can’t take anything anymore.
Featured Image: a Vaka flower, a metaphor of nostalgia.