One of those days,
When the sun is eager to rise,
And the stars unwilling to set,
I take a walk,
Through the wilderness,
And noticing old friends,
They’re back again!
All these days,
They’d latched their doors,
Deep within my mind.
They try to push me further,
Giving me these sudden lifts of motivation,
And satisfaction towards everything I’d achieved so far.
I’m glad, whenever they’re hopping around in my brain.
But then the other set of friends arrive,
With their dark shadows falling to the side
Not so wise, but they always claim otherwise.
Only to speak up when I trip.
They freeze the time,
Dig holes so deep under my feet,
That I’d choose to believe this is the last act.
They throw down more thorns,
Say that’s what I deserved for company.
I search around for my former cheerful friends,
But they are nowhere to be seen,
Locked up in the deep ends of my brain.
So I look outside,
Search for help
Among the people of my tribe.
The family outside my head.
Check if anyone notices,
Through the many layers
Of pretense I’m clothed in.
So I go back to the pit in the ground.
I ask my dark friends,
What else they got except for prickly branches of self- hate?
And they throw self doubts as a response.
Top it off with a layer of insecurities, they say.
I try to get myself untangled out of the mess,
But I end up crying a river,
And I drown in my own self- pity instead.
I ask them again,
Where were my other friends?
The ones that helped me be content.
And they drop in incidents of screw ups
And opinions of people who I couldn’t care less.
Why, I ask,
Beg them to stop.
Say I’m not as bad as they make it out to be.
And their last response is to cover me,
In a thick blanket of numbness,
From all the feelings there ever was.
I can’t move my legs,
I look up at my tribe again,
Trying to mouth a few words,
To certain people,
Hoping they’d care.
But they’d send me excuses,
And assurances of how they’d help me,
If things were just a little different.
So I try again,
To talk casually with other people,
Who have no clue about my dark little scars,
Spread all over my skin.
I ask them how was their day,
And they ask mine.
How I wonder,
That there might be a slight chance,
That they’re going through hell themselves,
And pretending to be alright.
So I scream again,
I’m done trying all the doors in my head.
I scream for those friends in my mind,
Who had made me see how happy life would be,
If I was just content.
I pray and pray,
Hoping they’re not dead,
And that one fine day,
I’d finally release them,
And end this torment.