Insanity… That’s what this must be; waking up with tears dancing in your eyes. It’s like a slow dance to a sad ballad. This was how the mornings were for me, at least most of them. I would drag myself out of bed because I had to. I was expected to. And anyway the fact that I was alive today meant there was something I was meant to do so I might as well get to it. The truth however, was I would rather be asleep. I would rather sleep a continuous sleep, not die but just fall into a deep sleep where I would not be forced to awake to this reality called life; Sleeping Beauty kind of sleep just no Prince Charming to kiss me awake.
The sight of people drains me. Yes, I am introverted but this is just too much. The presence of people literally makes me feel like screaming and yanking out my hair. I wanted solitude but yet I crave for companionship. The sound of voices makes me feel slightly crazy. It’s like a million buzzing sounds in my ear all meeting together in my brain and causing a loud clanging sound. But the silence never helps either. There are a million voices getting stronger - clearly Barlow Girl knew what they were talking about. Once in a while I talk to myself, hold a long conversation where I convince myself that all is well and that I will be fine. And just for a moment I believe it. I will myself to be better. Crap! I feel sick. What is this? Depression, maybe? I don’t know but it sucks. Often I walk in the open air and guess what? Still then I feel suffocated! At times I even gasp for air at that slight moment of feeling lightheaded. Food is foreign to me. Untouchable. Gross even. The taste of that which I love makes my tummy turn. Shrek’s ‘better out than in’ makes total sense to me. So there I am … Miss-Popping-Collarbones, Swimming-In-my-clothes, emaciated looking girl. Insanity is me being super-hungry but enjoying only the taste of cupcakes and fresh juice. Maybe leaving was a bad idea. I seem worse out of it than when in it. Insomnia and excessive sleep seem to be taking turns. I wonder who will win. He told me I was mourning. That’s what my friend called it. It wasn’t depression. The emotions I was facing, the supposed symptoms of depression I was showing were merely grief; grief masking itself in depression. The truth is not only the dead are mourned. Tears must be felt even if they fall for the living. I stare into the mirror but I don’t see myself. I see him, mourning her emotional departure before her physical. And my heart goes out for him. Pain demands to be felt so he must feel it. Hopefully he won’t let it pull him under. Hopefully it won't leave him shattered.
2 Comments
|
Author
|