Trapped. Confined in a dark constricting space. Constricting, with every wheezing breath I draw, unsteady and tremulous.
Unsteady like my life; the very quaking foundation of it. I question the day I was born, as the space around me keeps shrinking. Living, for me, is like breathing underwater; cannot be done for more than a few seconds, or a few minutes if I want the torture to continue for just a little longer. The balance of my life precariously hanging on my choice; whether to hold my breath or to let go of it to allow the water to gush into my lungs and end the suffocation forever.

   The ever shrinking space continuing to do so, effectively muffling out all the noise surrounding me but the voices in my head grow more distinct as the four walls of the space close in on me, slowly but with purpose; the purpose of suffocating me to death. "Why me," I ask, or rather state blankly to whoever is listening. My voice sounds strangely amplified, echoed as it bounces off the walls of the dark space. I can still hear the muffled drowned out sounds of the outside world; they are strangely garbled into what sounds like "It is going to be alright". Though garbled, I can hear clearly the empty promise ensuing from it.

    I want to be heard; not spoken to. Those empty words are just noise. And I don't need any more noise. I need peace of mind. I need to drown the voices in my head, with my own voice. My words are a plea; a plea to get me out of the dark space. A plea for me to breathe the fresh air again and bask in the light. Is my voice strong enough to create holes in the space, before it suffocates me to death? Is it strong enough to reach the outside world? Is it strong enough to connect me to the ones I love; for me to embrace them until all I feel is love and safety. Will it ever reach them? Or are they too in a constricting, confined space of their own?

Hello folks,
I'm back! Long time no see, right? I'm sorry for not being active for these two weeks. Call it laziness or fatigue because of reopening of college. 
   Though I'm not a fan of rock music and Linkin Park, I was deeply hurt when I heard of Chester Bennington's suicide. Seeing all his fans post heartfelt messages on Facebook, Instagram, Snapchat and other social media stirred something deep within me. The stigma surrounding depression or any mental illness is immense, especially in India. So much so that the ones suffering from it cannot talk about it without being criticised or talked about in a derogatory sense. It is as fatal as any physical terminal disease if not cured. Its inconspicuousness does not make it any less dangerous. 
   All they need is to be heard, hugged and loved. Tell them you'll be there when they need you. Take them to the psychiatrist and assure them that they are not mad. Depression is NOT 'just a phase that'll pass'. It is a condition. A disease that can kill even the healthiest of bodies.
   So when someone near and dear to you comes and talks to you about being sad, be there for them. Listen. Don't give advice. You could save someone's life.
Until next time folks.
Lots of love,

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  1. Thought provoking.
    Very well manifested.
    Keep it up.

  2. Mental health is indeed is serious issue. It's very difficult to reach out to people who're in dire need of help. The best we can do is watch out for subtle signs of distress and try to empathize with their situation.


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