I was suffocating now, dying a slow death. Who could have found me here? It was a dark and remote place. The reason of this choice was an obvious one. I had tried to flee many a times and they had followed because they cared. Yes they really did care. And no, I wasn’t the black sheep of the family, though it always appeared to be that way.
I was lucky. Living in a place where poverty wasn’t rare, I had been blessed with the best of everything. They loved me and protected me. They provided for me to the best of their abilities and I was thankful. Sadly, their love didn’t touch my heart. No one did. Was my heart stone cold? It was. But no, it wasn’t like this always. My heart was waiting to be touched by love… it yearned to feel… it ached to be given life. With time, it grew colder and colder till it turned into a stone, the yearning and the aching still hiding somewhere deep. Love that over powered me when I saw someone less fortunate than me or someone in pain… I still had that tinge of humanity in me left. But they never tried to see me that way.
I choked. I was thirsty with no one around to give me water. My eyes fell onto the blade that lied a few inches away on the floor. That’s all it took to end it, didn’t it? I lived a life searching for that certain something that would fill up the void in me. Lived up to their expectations… pulled in sorts of directions without a word. The should’s never ended. They never did. Making it a “life” was so tough… finishing was so easy wasn’t it? Just like that… snap? I realized how little was it all… the big hype we used to make out of life… it ends just like that, doesn’t it? The blood shone back. Red. Deep red. My blood. And now it was all but a mess on the floor. It was a sad sight. It hurt… yes it did. That was me there on the floor… spilled out on the floor like a gooey big mess of red. Was I ever such a waste? I never believed so. There I was, treating myself with care… thanking God for whatever He made of me…. And here I lay, choking in a pool of blood, dying a lonely death. Solitude was something very enjoyable, provided you enjoyed your own company. But then, there was a time when I started running from my own self. I feared being alone, I feared crying… I feared remembering that I was scared. The blade told me everything will be fine. Yes it did say that… it told me that if I let it pierce through me, it’ll give me peace. The pain would be there, but the peace and calmness that followed it was promised. And so it was. It was a numbing feeling. I felt great to meet myself again. After running so much, all the hiding and lying and escaping… it had only brought me to myself. It was like a reunion… coming back home. I was happy to be alone with myself now. Self indulgent, yes? Maybe. A friend said once, ‘when you have nowhere to go, go back to yourself’. That line never really did leave me. So here I was, with myself again, somewhere where I was best understood and helped.
Tears streamed down my cheek. I was defeated and I wanted to cry my heart out on this defeat. They made me do this. Oh they made me! On and on, they chained me. If I were sane, I would’ve calmed down with time. Mine was a restless soul, destined for glory… the promised glory. Look at me now… I suddenly realized what had really become of me. They had eaten me from inside. My mind was heavy with thoughts and fears, known and unknown, since long now. I had decided to put them aside… pretend… act. But they continued to grow… the fears became stronger, bigger, firmer… till I had a doubt on my sanity. Sudden anger… venting it all out in sheer madness, wonder, and uncertainty. It became too much for me. It did!
I choked again, I choked blood this time.
I died, my heart still untouched.
picture courtesy: deviantART