Depression. It’s like a lover that sweeps me up in its arms and throws me on the bed so hard that I end up breaking no bones but for the next few weeks, I can hardly get out of bed.
No. I don’t want to be yours, anymore. I see it go away and muster the strength to start afresh in life. Every effort against it is a win. I think I’m winning.
But, I am afarid.
I’m afraid that it is still there lingering like a shadow ready to turn into a ghost that will haunt me. It stares at me from outside the window and I am too afraid to let fresh air in because I cannot run the risk of letting it come back.
Depression is back. Sometimes the emptiness in my chest gets so heavy that I find it hard to breath. I end up beating my chest to unclog my lungs in an effort to rid of this disease. It goes away but I’m not sure for how long. I wouldn’t know because last time I spent two months without it and bid it farewell.
What I’m saying is that the dark clouds are back again and like everytime, I fear that there would be no way out of this. I’ll crumple like a piece of paper in the corner of my bed and my bones would sink into the mattress. My chest would be empty and suffocation will be the death of me.
I see it smoking by the door. Depression.
It’s coming at me like a war torn lover coming home.
Sadness is a lot like plague. One day you wake up to realize that you have the deadly sickness. Something in my body hurts. The pain has no source as I coil up in between sheets and cry. All I utter are empty prayers to a God who I only crawl back to when I’m down with the plague.
Have you ever seen smog in mid-winter covering the city? It feels a lot like that inside my chest. My bones have become hollow and crooked. The dim sunlight steals a glimpse into my room through the curtains as the fan sings a familiar tune. The plague paints everything in shades of sickness. Lost friendships and broken bonds ooze out of my veins like blood gushes out as it meets the blade.
Suddenly, all that I have ever tried to hide stares me in the face. Monsters under the bed and skeletons in my closet come out to dance-they dance under the sun. Demons don’t hide in darkness, that is a myth. They walk and dance under the shining sun.
Sadness is a lot like plague, love. One day you realize that you have been cured but still wait for it to creep up on you someday soon.
It is winter inside me and a blizzard echoing against the walls of my chest, that won’t stop. My heart has shriveled into a corner and the suffocating beats are the only sound circling out of my body. My soul keeps howling at the crimson red moon inside my body but lately, the howls of bravery seem like sighs of desperation. My mind refused to acknowledge my state and gave home to insanity in the density of its cerebrum.
I keep tapping my veins every night hoping that maybe a needle would answer my pleas or an ocean sniff would revert me back to life but the winter inside my chest keeps growing. Summer, spring and autumn don’t make a difference to me, anymore.
You know your are dead but you feel your heart beating and your lungs breathing.
The curtains are closed and the shimmer of the day still peeks in to your dark abode. Under the layers of blanket, you’ve comforted yourself.
4 in the evening and you had another glass of whiskey, two pills to put you down because one never does the trick.
The voices from the street tone down as the drowsy state of mind engulfs you.
What a lucky son of a bitch I am, you think to yourself, after mastering the art of not needing people in my life..I’ve mastered the art of not giving a fuck about time as well.
So, underneath the sheets you pat yourself on the back and fade out to nothingness.
Today is officially cancelled.
My demon is back
And it wants to play
I built a fort to keep myself safe
But, it’s taking down each wall I built
Breaking down the door and taking out the base
I now, lay under the rubble of my fort
Bruised, scared and cold
The night soaked my fears
The stars drowned my screams
I lay here, hearing the violins bleed
The piano fueled its melody with chaos
I taste madness in the air
Its the music of my demise and screams
I lay in the rubble of my shattered dreams
My demon is back
And this time it plans to stay
No holy deity can rescue me
No holy place to find solace
My demon is back, again
My demon is back, again
You will sit on the floor in the corner because that’s where you feel safe when sadness injects itself in your blood stream and makes it way to the core of your soul. Your knees are weak and tears stream down your face. You can feel your face getting hot as you try so hard not to curl in the corner but you do. You always do.
You don’t have a reason to be depressed because you have no lovers and no infatuations. People cry because of the lack of love in their life and here you are who never tasted it from the start. How will you know what it is like if you never had it in your life?
You have a successful career and a steady earning. You have good looks and the charm through which you woo the crowd. You have all that people want.
But you cannot get rid of the tears and find reasons to your crying. You have a reason but you’re not going to acknowledge it because that would mean realizing you have an issue and then seeking solutions. You’ve been running from problems, from people, from situations and even from yourself to stop now and realize possible solutions.
You’re like a fly caught in a spider web and there is no way out for you. You will perish. There is nothing worse than not being able to help yourself and you feel that you’ve reached that point. They say that if you don’t have a destination to run to then change direction and run again, but honestly? You are afraid to change direction and even more afraid to stop. Your halt would mean death to whatever you are. You don’t know what you are and like all the other questions in your life, you don’t seek an answer to it. You really don’t know and if you could know, you would rather not.
You will sit on the floor and cry some more. Maybe pass out in the cold or pop a pill and sleep, thinking there is nothing worse in life than trying to escape yourself.
There is something selfish about people who are broken. They always like to keep their scars to themselves. Sharing is not one of their best traits.
They will smile and nod at the world yet, the sadness always gleams in their eyes. They won’t share it because it is a burden that only belongs to them and gives a feeling of home.
I have seen people carve a home in the depths and realms of despair. They drown in pills and intoxications. They build houses of sand near the shore and smile when the tides break them down.
There is something beautiful about the hollowness in their chest and the way their heart howls in the cold lonely nights.
There is something selfish yet beautiful about a broken soul because in between the cracks, I always see the brightest lights.
Sometimes don’t you feel like the world is suffocating you? You have everything you ever wanted yet you still feel empty? Your hearts beating, you’re exhaling and inhaling and body functions are being performed like always but still heavy pressure inside your chest; above you lungs. A heat inside that burns. Feeling empty and devoid of something that you know is in the inner corner of your soul but you refuse to search and look for it on the outside.
Sometimes don’t you feel like ripping your chest open? Letting the flame inside catch fire and engulf you in it, letting your soul breathe. Come out and burn everything around you. Maybe in that fire and its ravenous lust of destruction, maybe in the beauty of those golden flames and maybe in the heat that cooks you raw, you will find peace.
Written by Fakhir Munir and Me!