decluttering depression: thought process

Some days you just wanted to escape to slip past the watchful eyes on your back and run away to some far away place and hide in the cover of the shades.

Some days you sit there staring at the bright blue sky and the lazy clouds floating in the skyscape and wonder what the next day brings and what life has in store for you today

"How did this all happen?" you wonder aloud to yourself lost in your thoughts just somehow trying to hold back the awful memories which barricade through your barriers and grimly reach your thoughts.

Some lazy moments you would end up staring at your hands, at the scars that will always be only visible to your eyes, a sharp stinging ache in your chest where your heart should have been but only hollow space is left now.

The wind breezes in, a thought will scuttle past your hazy mind and you'd turn a blind eye to your emotions hoping against hope of tucking all your pain away.

But sometimes it gets harder isn't? To pretend as if the whole world is not shifting under your feet and stumbling to keep your footing steady. A lazy smile stretches across your downturned lips, a poor excuse of pretense, a false face to show all the single minded freaks around you that you are as stupid as they think you to be.

But pretending these days is a tedious ritual to perform. The act of making masks everyday and hiding behind them seems more like a burden on your back, trust me, it feels like you have the whole world lifted up on your shoulders while you're climbing a rocky mountain that seems to have no end. It happens too

When your physical wounds match your emotional ones, the invisible scars that you wear proudly for the whole world to see, grips your skin like a vice, the burns that intensify rather than let you heal, it's your pain that burns brighter than your blood. The emotions that try to slip as you add more scars to your skin, but never know how many you already have or how many more you'll have to add.

It's when everything you ever beleived turns to question your sanity,as your mind comes up with questions that'll have no answers. 

Your hands tremble in fright of a foreign feeling, the same one that forced your hand to doom yourself for all eternity. "Hope" the deceitful liar would return with his sweet words, and being the fool you are, you'd hopelessly fall for his lies yet again.

It is you who let all those monsters in remember? It was you who was too blind to see only the little good in the devils and ignored their darker sides. It's you, you'll have only yourself to blame.

Days tick by and you slip out into emptiness, when you can block everything out and pretend to have a modicum of peace. These days, you paint yourself in shades of blue and black, the shade of the depthless ocean that drowns you deeper into the dark.

Sometimes the pain knew no barriers, it gets unbearable everyday. The glass armoury you built around you is cracking more and more. And sometimes you'd wonder if even "you" have reached your limits as someday every star has to explode out of existence. 

In the sane moments like this, you'd have to physically restrain yourself from letting the tears spill down your cracked eyelids, you'd have to suppress your screams that threaten to tear out from your throat and roar loud enough to rattle the sky.sometimes you'd have to press your hands to your ears to block out the white noise that keeps ringing and makes your ears bleed.

Forcing you lips into a tight line to prevent the trembles wrecking your body from exposing your pain to the other world.

"Why do you do this?" 

Sometimes you want to stop yourself from holding back and let the world face the consequences of your madness. You don't have to mask your pain away, let your screams drown out the voices of the heartless living dead around you.

But not all monsters have to be that way, you tell yourself, some can be kind too, even if she has to destroy herself in the process, being the villian in her own story for letting her fears get the best of her and let her spirit die in vain.

You'd know this, because it's you, the same monster who destroyed yourself.

By

Iniya prakasha