Fighting the Good Fight

Sometimes I wonder what it’s like to not have to live with mental health problems. Do you know what comes under that weird bracket if you don’t associate yourself with it? Are you curious to even find out? Or is it just something you need to name when you feel like you might die and it doesn’t seem to be physical?

I’ve always envisioned my brain as two parts cut right down in the center. It may be the impression that we’ve been all given that there’s a left and right side of your brain. But I don’t think of it as whatever - creative bullshit versus knowledge. They are two different Nishita’s just sitting there and making my life fucking miserable. I guess it is some twisted version of the devil and angel on your shoulder - one says positive shit while the other tries its hardest to make sure you fuck up. My entire life has felt like a constant fight, a struggle, a war. Even though I am privileged as fuck and have faced very minor hardships in my life, every day has felt like a boxing match. Life lands some pretty heavy blows, I try to get back up as one is expected to and sometimes I succeed and some days I fail. But either way, I feel knocked around as hell - covered in bruises and bleeding all over. I stitch myself up, put a slice of meat on my wounds, take some pills and try to just fall asleep. To fight another day, right? 

It feels like a bad mob movie you know? Like Daredevil with his dad or Rocky - where I have to fight or else I die. And if I die, everyone dies. So now along with fighting fucking life in the form of Rocky, I also have to think about everyone else’s survival. Just great. Now the question is, how do I do this while also being cheerful and productive? How does one work, love and have fun while being beaten to a pulp inside your mind? I try not to dwell on the obvious fact that many people manage to do just that and seem to do it very well. But the problem right now is that it feels like I’ve lost a lot of fights recently - like a ridiculous amount, stretched over the past 6 months. I want to quit so badly. I’m obviously not very good at boxing so why am I even trying any more? Why should I keep fighting just to lose? 

The good part of my brain whispers, ‘Because of the chance, the possibility that you might win.’ I love this girl, I really do. But she’s just so fucking weak sometimes and can never seem to fight off the terrible chick. She says all these great things but then just never follows through because of the other one. Yes, there is a possibility I might win that day. It might even be possible for me to hit a winning streak next month. But are the chances worth all the falls and all the injuries? Do I like the game enough to keep playing? Do I even care if I win anymore? 

Misty Madame

It's been a month since you died,

But I still haven't said goodbye.

Not a day passes by,

When I don't expect you to walk to my side,

And meow with all your might,

Expecting me to get up in the middle of the night.

I can still see you when I come home,

Waiting at the door to make me feel less alone. 

Even now, I feel your tiny paws,

Walking all over me, reminding me of what true love was.

I miss picking you up Simba style,

You would wonder at my madness and think me an imbecile,

But eventually we would reconcile.

I loved the way your fur felt beneath my fingertips,

And the way it would smell when I buried my face in it.

The tinker of your tiny little bell,

Ringing while you hid and gave us hell.  

I miss kissing your small wet nose,

And then the way your eyes would close.

I remember the way your soft paws felt on my cheek,

You adorable multi-coloured freak.

No more hanging on to my jeans,

Begging me not to leave.

You won’t be there when I go to bed,

Curled up, content, sleeping on my leg.

You’re not here anymore,

For me to hold tight and mourn.

Your absence is so palpable,

It makes me wish it was all reversible.

With a pirate eye and a bald patch,

We were the world's best match.

Eating, sleeping and reading won’t be the same,

Without you Misty Madame.

Thank you for choosing me.

Thank you for letting me love you.

Thank you for all that you taught me.

You will never be forgotten.

The Painting

But I will always remember,
The smell of paint on your fingers,
And the canvas in your eyes,
As you painted my soul,
And stripped me of my disguise.

But not all that is art is beautiful.
With every stroke and every line,
My essence ceased to look divine.
I watched you be puzzled,
And then terrified.
For only when you understand,
Can you truly see.

But you continued to create,
As I waited with bated breath,
To see your idea of me.
However, it was not to be.
The scrutiny became tiresome,
And I itched to shift,
I yearned for reprieve.
So I moved and I changed,
Your painting, however, didn't.

But then you put your brush down,
And walked away dejected.
I saw your creation,
Left incomplete and desolate.
I watched it on my wall,
Pondered the significance of it all.
Hoping you would come back,
To finish what was left of me,
To finish what you had failed to see.

But as time passed by,
The painting remained unaltered, untouched, unmoved.
Until one day I realised,
The canvas was mine, soul and body.
I was free to paint,
Had the liberty to imagine,
Every single version of myself ,
I loved and hated,
Respected and feared.
To paint the parts only I was privy to,
The good, the bad,
The happy, the sad,
The beautiful, the ugly,
The bright and the dark,
The straight and the twisted,
The past, the present and the wishful future.
The canvas could be my emblem,
Of honesty and acceptance.
It was mine, it was me.

And so I walked out the door,
To finish what he,
Could never understand.
And he,
Could never create.

Wandering Souls

As of today,
Right now in the midst of days,
I wish to disappear without a trace,
To not be found and not be chased.

I wish to become naught,
But a wandering soul.
One which lingers in and around,
People's most precious hours.

I wish to feel their joy and excitement,
Their distrust and disappointment,
The hurt and the sorrow.
But once pierced by it,
I also wish to disconnect and float away.

For how enchanting an experience it would be,
To be aware and lucid,
To be deprived and fulfilled,
All together, at the same time.

The essence of my soul would wander,
Uninhibited and unrestrained.
It would fly across the galaxies,
Collide with a thousand others, unbound and free.

The sadness that filled me would be gone.
The peace and calm that I sought, mine.
I would not have much,
But the group of wandering souls,
That would always accompany me. 

Breathe out

Take a pause,
Take a minute,
Take a second even.
Close your eyes,
And breathe it all in.
Think of all the beautiful things in your life.

Too dark to see?
Find one joyful thought,
One patronus worthy memory.
Replay it in your mind again and again,
Till you feel how you felt that time.
Let that smile blossom on your face,
Be aware of the rush of blood to your cheeks,
The warmth flowing in your veins,
Allow the arms of joy to embrace you once again.

Now breathe the rest out,
Let out that feeling of wretchedness and despair,
Let the winds carry it with them,
Onto to the next scene of tragedy.

Take a day,
Take a month,
Take a second only.
Close your eyes,
Breathe in,
And think of the people you love.

Remember the ways you made them laugh,
Remember the way they made you feel.
Think of those who might need you,
Who wouldn't want to live without you.

Now imagine them being gone,
Imagine the emptiness you would feel,
And let this imaginary pain rip you apart.
Feel this pain and sense of loss.
Remember this pain and sense of loss,
For you will be the one causing it,
If you give yourself away.

So breathe out,
Open your eyes,
Look into the cold glass reflection.
Put that mode of self destruction down,
Walk away from the smashed mirror.
Go fall into the arms of someone,
Who wouldn't want to live without you.

Four Years

Mid-way through our more than usual giggle fit, she abruptly stopped, looked up at the ceiling and said, "My tickets are booked. I leave in two weeks."

The room went eerily quiet as we let the news of her leaving, sink in. It felt as if the walls of the room we shared, were also quivering with fear of abandonment, of being left behind once again. Now the sound of our laughter was nothing more than an echo, resonating the inevitable lack of it. We lay next to each other in silence, struggling to find the right words, knowing it was a useless endeavour. No words could soothe this feeling of dread, of not knowing what the future held.

I rolled up next to her and held her. For a brief moment, it seemed as if my gesture was not to be returned. But then her small, soft arms slowly cradled me and warmed my bones. We held each other tightly, as if we were trying to prevent pieces of us from falling off, trying to prevent us from falling apart. Just like we had for the past four years. 

Floating Lights

There's a light inside of me,

Which lights up the path to my goals.

It shows me who I need to be,

To reach them and fulfill my roles.

It goes where I go,

It's my guiding light and my hope.

It makes me good and true,

So if it wanders around you,

Know that you are too.

When my belief in the world falters, 

It tells me stories from souls around the world,

And my opinion is once again altered.

Everything it tells me is all I know,

And that is how I learn and how I grow.

When from my path I have strayed,

It does not sound the alarm,

Just tells me to carry on and not be afraid.

For only when you get lost,

Will you remember the right way.

When my heart is breaking slowly,

My light fills the gaps and comforts me.

When my heart has healed sufficiently,

It leaves between the unstitched seams,

Left behind for me to breathe through.

When life gets boring and monotonous,

The once stable light,

Jumps around 'cause it's time to move on.

Time to find things that might break your heart,

Because they will make you feel a love that might tear you apart.

But maybe that's the best part?

This light inside of me,

Is my companion and my soul.

It teaches me of karma and peace,

Tells me to be patient and bold.

The world is dark and filled with sadness,

But all it needs are our lights and kindness.