If everything has always been like this,
Tormented, dark and full of perils.
I have memories..
In the marrow of my bones,
Seeping out, staining my skin.
I’m on the edge..
Where there is this life I want,
And then there is just insanity.
I see demons..
Not hiding under my bed
Or scratching the window,
But crawling and laughing in my head.
Coz the darkness clutches my soul,
Whispering sinister sayings into my ears.
I feel tormented..
The ache is always here,
Falling in line with drumming in my chest..
These scars, my badge;
These bruises, my war paint..
But it doesn’t hurt anymore
She wakes up, earlier than usual, feeling groggy and kinda lost. She’s sitting there on the bed for a while now, not making an effort to make sense of time or day even. She’s still feeling lost, like she woke up from some long sleep and don’t remember the day or date. She feels she might get late for work so she tries to see the watch hanging by her bed, it’s six in the morning so she cannot be late. She sits there for some more time, maybe an hour, without thinking anything or feeling anything but lost. Now she is kinda tired of feeling this emptiness so she takes her cell phone to change the alarm as she feels the need of sleeping for a bit longer, and she realizes it’s Sunday morning. She doesn’t know what to feel, happy or sad. She sleeps back, and slept through the day. Wakes up in between but felt useless to wake up so she slept again.
After sleeping for almost whole day she wakes up in the evening feeling same. Early morning she was under the impression that this weird feeling will leave her when she will wake up again, but well she was wrong.
She felt empty; the emptiness returned her after some specific period. She’s good for a while; she’ll talk more, laugh more, will be more cheerful than usual and will be totally alive. But then something happens, like a switch turns off somewhere and all she’s left with is darkness of her mind. But each time it seems like she sinks deeper and deeper, and she is scared… terrified that one day she won’t make it back up; she feels like she is gasping for air, screaming for help but everyone just looks at her, with confused faces. Wondering what she is struggling over so much when they’re all doing just fine. And it makes her feel insane, she feels like she is losing her sanity day by day, minute by minute. She feels like the mask of her sanity is falling off, like she won’t be able to pull it off any longer.
On the days like this when she doesn’t have anything pressingly urgent that requires her attention she ends up feeling weird things; things that she is able to avoid habitually in her busy and occupied routine. Looking around herself makes her feel even more worse, because she has people around her who looks up to her, she cannot help but sit in a dark corner with a book in her hand and thousands of question in her mind. She feels sick, the way sadness is addicting. The way she can’t stop, sadness for her is familiar. It’s comfortable and it’s easy in a sense that it comes naturally to her. But everything else about it is hard, the way her body aches with self-hatred, the way her mind spins with hopeless thoughts, the way it poisons everything she does, every effort she makes, every relationship she has, yet it’s addicting. Maybe because she knows it very well; and there’s a sort of comfort in that, like being home after a trip or sleeping in your own bed after being away for a while. She feels like that’s where she belongs, that’s how it is supposed to be.
For her nothing is permanent, no relation, no emotion nothing but the weird longing she feels in her soul for something very raw yet totally unknown. She has this longing since forever, since she knew emotions and feelings she found herself craving for something that cease to exist. That made her go insane, the hole keeps getting bigger and it might just swallow her existence someday. The thing with her is nothing is enough for her; no one is enough for her. For a while things and people will satisfy her or she might feel her situations are improving but actually it’s not. It’s just her illusion; she keeps on repeating the same damn thing, again and again, expecting shit to change.
And I guess that’s what is called insanity!!