Creative Writing · Depression · Mental Illness · Neurodiversity · Through the Shattered Glass

Through the Shattered Glass #3

THROUGH THESHATTERED GLASS.png

About the series :

In case the title didn’t give it all, Through the Shattered Glass is going to be my Grey Journal. I am going to document my lowest, darkest moments in life. It is also a Journal, but it will only display my darkest days, perhaps even a bit about the aftermath.

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You know how sometimes they tell you to reward yourself for those small achievements you make? Wait. That is actually what I usually tell my self. People usually tend to disregard small achievements; most people give zero fucks about what you achieve; others have a hobby of eliminating anything that would make you feel like a better person.

Here is the thing. Maybe I am wrong. Perhaps I shouldn’t count my blessings. Every time I applaude myself for having the courage and strength to resist iT, to have some hope that maybe someday I will be free of iTs despair, I find iTs eyes staring back at mine. And I am left with two choices, and nothing but two choices.

Choice no 1: Keep on staring back at iT, and see all the reasons why everything would be better if I cease to exist. Choice no 2: Dare to look away, and be stuck in the grey. If you think one seems bleaker than the other, oh boy, oh boy, you are so fucking wrong.

See. I can keep on staring into iTs hypnotizing window of ” lies?”, but at that moment, my brain registers iTs words as the only holy truth. iT  keeps on revealing all of my past mistakes, facts about my current failures, and a precise prediction about by bleak future.

My heart is locked in a metal cage that keeps on shrinking, making me unable to breath, making me wanting to leave. Leave this place. Not because death might sound like a better life for me, but because MY death is the best thing that could ever happen to this world. My parents would be relieved that I am gone, friends will be happy that our friendship is done, and the number of Wars going on will be equal to none.

I will cry for hours till I run out of breath; I cry my heart out till burning in hell is where I believe I should be. I am still writing this, so I am still here. Haven’t suicided yet, but that is where his eyes lead to.

Perhaps your yelling ” Don’t look into HIS eyes!” But you see, without iTs eyes staring back at mine, the world looks so grey. I don’t feel happy, and I don’t feel sad. My soul is numbed towards everything, including the things that thrill me in life, and the things that I absolutely loath and despise. It stays like that, till my eyes and iTs meet again. And sometimes, I welcome iT entering my sight. Because for the 1st time since forever, I can feel again. Even if it’s negative and bleak.

 

It is a full circle, without a loop hole. But I will  keep on searching for one. There is always one hiding somewhere, in every grey corner. How cool would it be if I had a Dora with me?? Perhaps then I could find my getaway.

 

Till next time,

Ayah

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2 thoughts on “Through the Shattered Glass #3

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