Her small body shook with sobs. She was trapped in an airless interior of her own blackness. Bad memories she had wiped away from her mind over the years had returned, like long drowned bodies bobbing back to the surface again. With streaming eyes and a punctured heart she picked up the blade. Slicing the flesh of her bare arm no scream escaped her lips. The trickling red fluid took away the excessive grief. As if, eliminating the crippling conception of hopelessness. Words hang like blade. It feels as if our world is all black and grey, no matter what the sun is saying. We hug isolation like our life depends upon it. To break the aching emptiness there seems like no other convenient option for our heart is afraid it would shatter into a million fragments that would vanish forever into the darkness. Nothing stirs and our empty life craves color. It craves light. Time gasps for breath. Everything seems fractured and at that particular moment, that verge of breaking down, every bad memory abodes our hearts. It's like being in the middle of a circle and being revolved into pain and darkness. Natures itself lays traps. And we fall like a prey. We fall down like an old tree falling down in storm. But ask yourself, why? Just because you could never escape from the iron grip of desires? I understand how very painful it is. The feeling of your heart being cut. Words feeling like blades. Courage fading away. Uneasiness seeping down the bone marrow. Pain being locked into every chamber of heart. And worst of all? No one voices it. But hey sweetheart, is this worth it? I know you are gonna say had you been at my place you would have known. But what If I say I have been down that road and I know you are gonna get nothing but scars? If you really feel that light is too feeble to penetrate gloom, why don't you shift around a bit? Why don't you be your own hero? The act of cutting oneself explains mute misery. The weird designed patterns on your arms are there only because you let sorrow empower you. Only because you handed yourself over to grief. 10 20 years from now, imagine when you'd be staring at the scar, when things will be okay and you'd be covering it with makeup this thought's gonna poke you every minute that what it if I could just have been patient? Yes! Being patient is what is being required. You think everything is compressed, what are your parents for? Your best friends for? Or is it just your mean boyfriend that matters? Don't talk about love unless you don't know what real love is. This cutting is inflicting pain on people who matter for you. They lay awake for there is nothing they could do to help you. And that is what real pain is. That is what being helpless is. When they lay awake, crying all night for you. Just for you. Remember, this too shall pass. Maybe in ragged steps, but pass it will. Grabbing the light, or the blade? The choice is yours.
Photo Courtesy = Saleha Adnan
0 comments: