I was siting all alone on the bench. Angry gray clouds were forming over my head. People were running in both directions. I felt alone in this huge crowd. I don’t have a clear memory when this began this feeling inside of me growing and getting stronger like a virus. This feeling of seclusion
This place was where I come for my peace of mind and take a break from daily routines. I observe people consumed in their own worlds, smiling and laughing. Sometimes my blank mind wonders whether those smiles are real. Other times I wonder even if it is real, how long will it last?
I wasn’t always like this. I can remember though hazy, that sometimes I used to smile. I use to think this world was bright and colorful. But now it’s just black and white with shades of gray. I used to love my life, hang out and have fun with friends but all those are nothing but memories down the river of time.
Everyday it gets a little harder to get out bed, a bit harder to get myself ready. But I’m used to painting a smile over my lips. I would like to have friends, go out to movies and dates. I would also like people to ask for my number and get invited to parties. But they will always remain as a colorless dream.
Sometimes I lie on my bed and wonder if this is a nightmare. Then I pinch myself to get out of it. Yet somehow I never wake up. That is why each and every night I get completely deranged. It feels like I’m stuck in a reality where rotting in the never ending abyss is not even scary.
Some people would define me as a maniac but then again I stopped caring about what people say years ago. No one considers me of their own kind. I wish to meet the unwanted like me. But that is when the wind of realization punches me in my guts and knocks the air out of me.
My head filled with empty thoughts. My heart numbed by this loneliness I face each day. I was stoical from the day I was born. But sometimes this pain is a little more unbearable. I always minded my own business, being happy loving people and caring for others was mainly why I lived. Then to realize it was all just a waste of time. Any person would break down…why should I be an exception?
I remember feeling the wind in my hair. I remember feeling the rain on my skin. I remember happiness and somehow I recall what it felt like to smile.
Every so often I sat on my window pane and saw the innocent bright eyed children playing bringing back shadows of past when I was just like them, how sweet was it to play for long tiring hours and come back home where my mother was waiting for me with milk and cookies. And when I fall down and scrape my knee she would put medicine. Now, I don’t have a person to call my own let alone a home.
I remember sitting around with flowers and looking at the cute neighbor, and hiding behind the fence where we shared our first kiss only to find him gone two days later. I can still see the day after years of waiting I finally graduated from college with my degree only to wander aimlessly around disregarding any comments from anyone telling me that I was hell-bent on wasting my life. Day after day, coming home late and making my mother worried. Then I remember the day I went for a picnic and came back to find my mother in eternal rest lying on the bathroom floor.
I remember the day when I decided to sell everything and move somewhere, where her reminiscences would not haunt me. The tapes unreeled before me showing me the day when I met the new home owners and sold them everything while I packed and moved to New York. I remember getting a job as a lawyer and a partner of the firm.
I remember working vigorously for hours and finally hitting rock bottom one day. I remember going into the bathtub and playing Tic Tac Toe with razorblades on my wrist. I watched mesmerized as the blood flew steadily ticking the seconds away on my life. And I remember gladly going under just to be discovered by the house maid landing me in hospital and then mental asylum.
Now I am lying on my bed again, staring at the blank cream colored ceiling up above, wondering how if feels like to be dead. But no matter how hard I try I am still trapped in my nightmare sewn up into reality. This is the pain you feel when every exhaled breath feels like a silent scream.
Sometimes I wonder if she was alive, whether I would not have gone insane. And then I start to think it was good for her. She didn’t have to witness as much as suffering and hurt of the cruel world as I did. Maybe it was good for me too. Even I can boast that I have been through hell and back to anyone who would listen.
Now thirty years passed down the sands on time in my life but there has always been the fact in my heart that though how easy I have always given up and ended up a looser. Now I’m not going to give up and end up in inferno for eternity.
Everything in my life that happened made me stronger, apathetic I agree, but definitely stronger than anyone. It made my skin thicker and made me learn faster. I can’t give up again because I am a fighter. After all even if it is the same old sun, it is a bright, beautiful new day
You have been so much to me but I don’t deserve to be happy. I know that because I haven’t been to others. The only thing I have been is mean. I can’t care about people not that I don’t want to but only because I am never quite sure how to. In a few days you’d probably be gone to never return. I want to tell you that I do want to fix this, that I don’t want you gone, that I cannot continue this bleak existence without you but it would scare you away.
