I spend most of the nights,turning and twisting in bed,chasing sleep and barely after an hour,I wake up unable to stay put and relax.My curtains are always closed,the room has to be dark even in daytime,light irritates my eyes.My door is always closed,the only time it opens is when someone comes to check in on me.I’m always in bed,a thick blanket eloped around me in the most claustrophobic manner.The AC is always on,the room clinically cold and clean.My bedside drawer has numerous bottles filled with tablets and pills, now half empty.The most fascinating thing are the shapes and sizes and the colors of the tabs,my very own rainbow.The blue small pills to reduce headaches,the green round pills for reducing panic attacks,the white ones to induce sleep,the pink capsules for alleviating stress.

The doctors say I have clinical depression,social anxiety.At first they tried therapy,homeopathy and finally psychotherapy. They consider me a project,something to work on,the one that is ‘difficult case’.It all actually started from my parents divorce,two very ambitious individuals,finally ending it after 10 years and walking separate paths.I have had issues since i was 11 years old and they got into full bloom after I turned 19.A few failed visits to a mental institution or as they say”nut house”,my parents kept me at home.They barely even visited me twice a day.All my friends visited once a week or so.Many were scared looking at my hollow eyes,some stopped visiting slowly with excuses  such as tests,homework,girlfriends,parents,school etc.I understand their fear,reluctance.If I were them even I would get scared and stop.I want to stop actually,living is tough especially when your mind is foggy most of the times and you swallow at-least 5 pills with every meal.

I have started writing letters now.All of addressed to important people in my life.I think i have had a lot of unexpressed emotions,I would like to let out.The letters written to my parents highlights their ignorance towards me,the letter to my best friend tells the truth about her ex boyfriend and me.The letter to the boy I loved is in a fragrant envelope with a zip-lock pouch holding a pendant he’d given me.There is a paper listing all my prized possessions,mainly books to be given out to various people.A tiny goody bag for my cat.Hopefully everyone will remember me as I was before the illness took toll on my brain.I have been hoarding the antidepressants for weeks now,under my mattress.I have calculated and taken in consideration all the risks.Now all I need to the courage to swallow the pills,do the deed.A part of me is scared of the aftermath,the mark my action will leave on everyone. I know it’s selfish but it’s the right thing,my only escape.I will finally find my peace and the emptiness will fade away.

I hope they bury me in a pretty dress.




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violent mind

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