Fucking my own anticipation of being only existing Happy-Go-lucky
kid, who thought things like grim and ennui will never touch him doesn't matter
how hard a day is. That was not just a delusion but a bitter truth too with
whom I growing up. My friends started to call me that-you are depressed, you
think a lot; you are a haggard and even much more; though I denied to all
allegations by shaking my head in rejection like a pro Politician. First I
thought they were just trying to poke me in order to pull out some fun but
after applying some more stress on my already screwed mind, I found them (my
friends) aptly right. Yes I am going through the state of depression and later
when I examined myself in front of the mirror, I found myself grey and pale
instead of that eternal smile that I always wear.
A good day for me was
like a couple of headphones on ear playing to some Eminem or Tupac track,
watching a Harry Potter movie, visiting
a tea stall numerous times a day, updating my blog page and like a true
bibliophile reading few pages of a good novel from an ace novelist. But during
these days of so called depression Eminem podcast sounds irritating, Harry
Potter a kid stuff abhors reading just because sensible novels are a rare thing
and in every look my own writing pieces are pathetic.
I merely communicate with beloved ones whom in past, I
informed my every possible emotion, even before I stimuli and a day was mammoth
to spend without talking or texting. Simply for me, from a boredom box cell phone emerged as a devil whose right place is a
garbage container all because they are hardly picked by me once or twice in a
whole day. I is the Maverick one who is shrouded in a virtual word of seclusion
and one who hatred meeting people. Still clueless when it was the last time, I
visited a temple and bow down my head in front of god or sited prolong hours in
a library; just in search of some privacy, inner peace and flow of positive
energy within me; as both of them were an integral part of my awesome life.
Worst thing is that,
In pursuit of some few hours of sound sleep…. I became addicted to sleeping
pills but for me even their subscription is no longer fruitful. It is a
herculean achievement, if I am stricken to bed for more than four hours. Early
night nap calls to the bed and early morning wake calls off the bed has become
an obsolete stuff. From an adamant brat, I tuned up to a passive version of
mine. Like a hefty ass, I react sporadically over any scene happening all
around, just standing promptly with mum lips and let them happen in the way
they are
These are the straight signs of an occult depression and I
am pretty hapless in finding any niche to hindrances. Even Before looking for a
niche, calculation of core is must needed. If everything keeps happening in
same way then, with a glass of water apart from sleeping pills I have to
consume depression pills too. Time has come when a break on it is most needed
otherwise there is no wonder that I am going to carry an arrears in upcoming
graduation exams.
No comments:
Post a Comment