From the age of seven, dark clouds would follow me around. A haunting nightmare that would leave my eyes soaked in tears. Although closing my eyes was frightening, keeping them open was another battle. I would desperately try to hold onto any shred of reality as if I was drowning and gasping for air.
I dissociated frequently, feeling like I had no control over my body. I felt like I was nothing more than a voice; a voice lost in a vast space of emptiness, a voice that was fading away deeper and deeper into my mind. I was left helpless with a mind that was plagued with suicidal thoughts.
Although I couldn’t talk to anyone else about it, I would express myself through doodles that contained hidden messages. This gave me an opportunity to talk to someone — myself. Loneliness became my only real friend.
Anger suddenly began creeping through my veins, slowly taking over my body. I was becoming an angry child with a very bad temper tantrum.
Growing up, I was rebellious committing petty crimes. It wasn’t until I turned 14 that I was arrested for the first time, and convicted on my first set of charges. I was not involved in that particular incident. This experience reinforced my assumptions that life was unfair and this world was a cruel place. Although, I was innocent the first time around, I was guilty of all my subsequent charges.
I became increasingly dependent on alcohol. The alcohol helped me cope because it made the pain bearable. Yet, it kept me stuck in a negative mental state. I would turn to alcohol for comfort when I couldn’t handle the negative emotions, but as I sobered up, I found my life unbearable again.
Simultaneously, my anger began to surface more readily; I was losing my inhibition and becoming more impulsive. Consequently, I became much more reactive and violent. I started noticing the intensity of my anger build up, which suddenly transforms into rage. Thereafter, I would feel like I had no control over my actions. I would see myself choking him. I couldn’t understand what would come over me. All the anger and hatred couldn’t be contained anymore.
Happiness to me was the elusive wind, which I constantly chased. As much as I tried I could never grasp it.
On my desperate search for happiness, I set my eyes on love. She was like an angel sent from heaven to rescue me from my misery, or I thought. It was uplifting to think that someone might be able to see me for who I really was, and actually understand me. I wasn’t a monster, I was wounded and defensive. I hoped she had the ability to delve into my mind and understand why I was the way I was. I wanted her to know that I was afraid of all the monsters lurking in every corner of my mind. As much as I tried to get away from them, I just couldn’t.
Fortunately for her, she couldn’t see the monsters that were chasing me. She only saw the monster running towards her. In short of tearing my heart apart to show her, as much as I tried she couldn’t understand me. How could I blame her? I couldn’t understand myself.
There was a hole in my heart that couldn’t be filled. As much as she tried, it wasn’t enough. This hole became a vacuum. It started to suck all the colours out of my life. The world around me seemed dull and empty.
Little did I know that the answer was buried deep within my own mind, secretly held by my inner voice, which was nowhere to be found.
Eventually, I got tired of running. I stopped and looked up at the dark clouds. I stood there, soaked in the rain, wondering if my emotions even mattered. It didn’t seem like anyone really cared. My tears would mingle with the rain drops and vanish. There, I realized the insignificance of my life.
How can I outcry the rain? As I stood there devastated, time seemed to stretch. Everything slowed down, and everywhere I looked I saw my own reflection staring back at me in every raindrop. I never had the courage to confront myself, but now I was forced to face my monsters. I couldn’t understand why I was so unhappy.
Little did I know that the answer was buried deep within my own mind, secretly held by my inner voice, which was nowhere to be found. A voice that I lost as a child was now buried under years of memories. I repeatedly chose to drown out the remnants of this voice with alcohol. Despite all this, this voice still kept crying out for help.
Although the cry was subtle enough it never got the attention of my conscious mind, it was intense enough that the sound vibrated throughout my body and manifested itself in various areas of my life. It brought me to that very moment in time which forced me to stare down the depth of my despair, into the abyss.
As I stood there, I heard the cry. It was echoing along the walls of the pit. The sound of the cry amplified, and the vibration shattered the edges of the wall. The ground beneath me began cracking. My world was gradually falling apart.
There was an implosion of darkness that consumed everything. Everything, except a speck of hope was visible as a torch. The flame of the torch illuminated the darkness. I grabbed the torch and held onto it tightly as it guided me through the darkness of my mind.
As I kept walking, the voice got louder, I followed the trail led by the voice. I came across a little boy sitting in a corner. He was sobbing with his head down. Acknowledging my support, he whispered into my ears in shame. He had been molested.
Artwork: Elaha Hosseiny
A version of this blog post was published on TamilCulture.com by Jeevan — Read here.
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