Drowning

It is liberating.. I can feel the water drawing me in, entering my lungs and clearing my breath. The voices in my head, the screaming and the dreaming.. It all comes to silence. This is liberating, letting go and not moving a muscle, not trying to resurface. Watching the sunlight scattering all over me like a million falling stars. I can hear some people mumbling around the lake, some shadows. But I’m smiling, I’m letting go. I feel comfortable, it feels like a mother’s womb. Warm, holding me close, washing away all my pain. I can’t breathe no more but look at those tiny bubbles, they’re my life.. I’ll give it all away and what not, to stop these voices inside my head. Look, a tear running down my cheek, it feels warm and peaceful. Should I resurface or let go? I feel like I’m drowning and it’s kinda beautiful…

North star

I’ve walked for miles on a journey too long..

Searching for an oasis, through every right and wrong..

The skies cried a flood when I finally took a nap..

Now all I’m left with is a broken compass, a torn map..

Whichever road I take, it gets closer but I remain far..

I’m a lost traveller and she’s the North Star!

Double Dave

Time,

The healer..

Time,

The plague..

Image: The persistence of memory, -Salvador Dali

Journey

Long time ago, a man started to run..

Didn’t know the destination or why did he begin..

The sweat on his face glistening under the sun..

Captivating like gold, thus joined another man..

Hungry and tired they found a melon..

To share or keep became the survival question..

One killed another and thought he had won..

That victory, that power, was it all for fun?

Since then men joined a journey that never ends..

Like hamster on a wheel, captivated; we run..

Image credits: Getty images©

Black butterfly

Why are we still scared of the dark?

Isn’t black inviting, drawing everything in..

There’s a certain mystery to it,

Concealing all things dark in it’s heart..

Making everything bright glow brighter…

There’s a black butterfly at my door,

Should I let it in?

Cursed..

Cursed is the one,

Who feels and feels deeply..

In a world, made of nothing

but stone.

Black dog

He shows up in my bed on a night of utter despair…

Making me stay with him for days till I finally begin to repair…

Music is not the healer anymore, food I can hardly chew..

The skies begin to turn dark and everything else is blue..

He feeds on all my attention, making it hard to concentrate..

Concealing it under the mask of humor I tell people; “life’s great”..

They’ll judge me if they see him, consumed by the fear of shame..

A glass breaks thousands of miles away, he tells me “You’re the one to blame..”

He keeps me up at night, barking the loudest he can..

It’s harder to get out of bed and go to work, lookin’ like cavemen..

Pushing me far away from my friends, hitting me with the strongest wave..

My depression isn’t my pet anymore, now I’m his only slave..

If only I can seek help and someone to hold my hand,..

I’ll train my black dog again without needing a magic wand…

P.S. Depression shouldn’t be allowed to grow darker and bigger making easier for it to control us. There’s no shame in asking for help and sharing your true emotions with people close to you. But it’s a shame when we see someone around us suffering and fail to ask “Are you okay, bud?”

-®Hira Chaudhry

©Image courtesy: The scream, Edvard Munch