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A farewell from life…

It’s been a long road
I know I haven’t done you any good
but – our ways are parting now
forgive me if you could.

I know I’ve let you down
because now I’m sinking deep
watching you fade away
into a dreamless sleep.

There’s so much I could have done
to ease this walk of yours
but I stood in front of you
blocking all your doors.

I haven’t been the kindest
I wish you didn’t see
the flames that burned you down
were ignited by me.

It’s all my fault
I drowned all your dreams
I wanted to see you suffer
when you were begging on your knees.

I have no more words
but there’s so much I need to say
I wish I could have said it all
before the arrival of this day.

Now you must close your eyes
there awaits you another friend
from here you’ll have to move on
our journey has come to an end.

Embrace this new transition
there awaits you another road
you need to be brave now
because you are worth so much more.

I’m sorry
I wish I could repent
I’d give you all I have
if time was mine to control
I would have become your path.

A farewell from life

Poetry book: Curing My Venom
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Anger

Anger.

It’s when your blood boils in your veins and you can feel it slither through your body like lava. Your brain is heated and all you see is red blinking in front of your eyes like bolts of lightning. Your skin becomes so heated that you can feel the rage slip down your flesh like drops of sweat.

Anger.

It’s when you clench your jaw as tightly as you can that you hear that click. Your words that were once as sweet as sugar become as harsh as spikes. Your tongue becomes another knife and the sentences dripping from your mouth hold so much bitterness that a cactus would blush.

Anger.

A way to kill people without physically touching them. A passage to a road that leads to nowhere but hell. A fire that destroys, not the body, but the soul residing within. A demon that feeds on hostility, anguish, and pain.

Anger.

The bubbles building inside slowly pile up and then explode like a volcano. You’re drenched in a feeling that overpowers you to the point where you become so powerless that you start breaking yourself and everyone around you.

Anger.

When you want to burn down the world and everything in it. A feeling that tears your core and shakes you like an earthquake. You tremble and fall, but in that process, you take everything and everyone down with you.

Anger is bitter.
It’s like biting into a cactus for water, or it’s like burning down a forest with your bare hands and then complaining there’s no food. I’m not saying that you should keep your anger inside, that’s just as bad as letting it lose.

Learn how to control it. How to manipulate it. How to express it in a way that would cause the least amount of damage. Sometimes, we lose communication and comprehension with ourselves and that is the worst thing anyone can do to themselves.

You’re damaging your body, your soul and your mind piece by piece. It may not seem bad, but it’s harmful in the long run. Understand what your body and soul want and learn to feed it. Learn to express anger not suppress it. There are so many things you can do:

  • Play a sport to cool yourself down.
  • Bake and focus on the precision of the ingredients.
  • Write and pour out your soul.
  • Speak to someone.
  • Record yourself and hear the voice of your heart.
  • Listen to music.
  • Take a nap.

And when your anger is in control, and you know you won’t explode… face your problem. Tackle the issue from the root, so it won’t bother you again. Pull it from the stem so you could grow something beautiful in its place. It won’t be easy, but then again it takes time for things to fall into place. Remember that a diamond is formed only when coal is pressurized. Inner beauty takes time and all that is required is effort and a dab of patience, sprinkled with optimism.

Photo by Elti Meshau from Pexels

Self-inflicted war

The most damaging wars are the ones we fight with ourselves. When our mind transforms into a battlefield and our heart becomes a no-go zone. It’s like we’re torn between shooting emotions, bombarded with sentiments. We’re ripped between reasons, opinions, and facts. And that is the moment where we lose all sense of what is right and what is wrong. It is in that little time space where either everything makes perfect sense or the things that did make sense become undecipherable. We become so captivated in our own thoughts that everything happening just seems like a blur. In that instance what should we trust- our instincts, gut, heart or that tiny slit in our brain magnifying every possible threat there is to existence.

But why is it that this war we’re fighting is leading us nowhere?
Why is it so hard to understand that this self-damage is incurable? 

Maybe because we’re already destroyed, that no damage can cause us more pain then what we’ve been through. Like we’re about to explode. These are the types of sparks that cause flames within. But in that case, which fire should we put out first. The one inside of us or the one outside.

Wars are never easy to fight. Because they sketch their marks all over. Whether they’re fought on land or inside our head. But
I guess we’re all soldiers placed in different battlefields with different weapons.

The worst part is that I’m unprepared for this war and I’m scared. If I don’t have an enemy then why does everything around me feel like a threat? I have no weapons yet here I am fighting with my bare hands.

Will I win?
Do I deserve to win?
Why does failing feel like a better option? Maybe because I’m afraid to rise. I’m afraid of whatever awaits on the other end of the battlefield. What if it’s a bigger storm, a bigger war, a bigger threat?

But just because you didn’t win doesn’t mean you lost. Why can’t you just be in the middle? Establish a cease-fire and maybe stay there. I’m not saying that losing is good but why does it have to be so bad.

Sometimes threat does not come to me holding a sword. She comes to me with a pretty smile, draped in poisonous flowers that smell like Eden. She comes to me holding a mirror, and the threat I see looks exactly like me. And that is the moment where I don’t know what to do. Attack myself? Or wait for her to attack me? Either way the outcome will leave me damaged and there is nothing I can do.

It’s like I have no choice. Is the war worth fighting? Is it better to be safe and lose; or win and be completely broken? Why does victory have to come dressed in blood? Why can’t it shine like the first light of day?

A day with Anxitey….

Sometimes I don’t wake up to sunlight peeking through my windows. I wake up to a dark invisible cloud looming above my head. I don’t hear the chirping of birds and the rustling of wind. I hear my own heart bashing against my chest and the blood surging through my veins, and it is in that moment where I want to lie back down and pull the cover over my head and pretend that everything is okay, even though I know it’s not. I’m having anxiety or maybe heart failure. I can’t tell the difference.

My brain isn’t functioning, and a headache is threatening to spill. I’m shivering, and I feel like my heart is about to pop out of my chest. Tears are forming in the ducts of my eyes and I can’t seem to breathe, but I have to force myself up, even when every cell in my body is begging me to lie back down.

The simplest things seem like a burden, and I can’t explain the explosions going on in my mind and in my stomach. The day won’t go well; I know this beforehand. Deep inside, I’m wishing for night to come so I could hide beneath it, but the hands on the clock seem to be moving slower and slower and there is nothing I can do to make them move fast enough.

I drag my legs out of bed and change for school. But I silently sit on the sofa hoping my mother wouldn’t notice the panic crawling on my features, but she does, and she asks me. I can’t get the words out. I can’t tell her that I’m having anxiety. I can’t tell her that everything around me is ticking like a bomb and I can’t control my heart from beating at a rate I can’t calculate, or I can’t control my limbs from shaking. I can’t explain that I can’t breathe because it feels like I have a heavy elephant sitting on my chest.

“I’m okay.” The words seem rehearsed. I lie to her and she believes me, not because she actually does, but because she has seen me like this, and to her this is normal because that’s what I make it look like.

I have to force myself from leaving the house, but incoherent thoughts erupt in my mind. The stupidest things that would make any normal person laugh, are haunting me. I’m afraid the pizza guy next door is an agent and he’s trying to kill me. Even though deep inside I know he’s a kind father of five and he won’t do anything to harm me. I’m afraid that a meteorite will burst out of the sky and against all possibilities it will fall on me. And the one thing eating my insides is that I’ll have a panic attack in the middle of nowhere and the people around me will laugh. They won’t understand because no one ever does.  I have to bite back the tears and suck it up even though there is a storm brewing inside of me.

School isn’t better either. There are familiar faces that look so distant. I have friends gathered around me and I can’t tell them that I don’t want to talk. I can’t tell them that deep inside I am drowning. I’m scared that if I tell them they’ll either leave me to drown or they’ll drown with me. Both possibilities are equally terrifying.

It seems better to have no friends. I know I’m hurting them because I am being hurt, but it’s just something I can’t control. And they don’t ask me, because they don’t know. But how do they not see? How do they not notice?

It’s hard telling them why I cancel plans last minute. It’s because I don’t know when my anxiety will tow with me. And even I don’t understand how it transforms into depression, and then it morphs into anger and I can’t control it and I hate myself for that.

Sitting in class is suffocating. It feels like the walls are closing in on me. I can’t focus on the teacher’s words because I’m scared that the girl sitting next to me will hear my heart, or that she’ll see I’m sweating even when the classroom is cold.

It’s hard explaining to my parents that even though I’m brave, that even though I look strong, deep inside I’m not. Sometimes I feel like I am breaking, and I am falling apart. It’s so hard telling them that even though I’m a grown adult, I still need them to hold my hand. I still need to lean on them. I still need them to speak for me because I honestly can’t do it.

It’s this odd suffocation that can’t be cured with oxygen. I’m drowning, and I can’t be saved with an anchor. But that’s not the worst part. The worst part is: I am ashamed to feel this way. I would rather burn and turn to ash than to accept that I have a mental illness. I feel like a disgrace. There are times where I am disgusted with myself. No one around me knows how to deal with this, but I can’t blame them, because I don’t know how to deal with it myself. I’m afraid of being judged, afraid of hearing the word ‘Mental illness’ because it feels like some sort of plague that will spread if I accept it. Like it’s an airborne disease and I’m not allowed to say it out loud. I come from a culture where Mental illness is taboo. Something we don’t speak of. Something we don’t acknowledge.

I am just one, out of countless people who feel this way. Mental illness is not something that will go away on its own, even though sometimes I wish it could. It’s not a phase that you’ll snap out of. It has the ability to transform and morph into something new. Something much worse. It can lead to depression and even suicide. It needs to be addressed. It needs to be talked about. Like any other disease, it needs to be cured.

Picture drawn by me.