Is it okay that I sit aimlessly staring at a wall, doing just about anything to avoid a call? Scribbling in my books with a black pen, or make my room a dark den? Is it okay?
Is it okay that reading no longer feels exciting, the smell of Maa's food isn't inviting any more? That there are bags under my eyes, that I am growing out of my size? Is it okay?
Is it okay that I cancel my plans just to avoid interaction, that now I prefer drama over action, that sometimes I just want to scream? Is it okay?
Is it okay that keeping quiet is no longer a choice but a habit? That sadness clings to me like a leather jacket? That my anxiety is always at its peak, and that it is a daily ritual to cry myself to sleep?
Is it still okay?
I keep on asking the same question to myself, and remember this is not the world of fairies and elves, who would wave a wand and make me smile again, so that I don't have to go through this ever again.
The cuts on my wrists is not an art. Maybe, I am seeking an opening for a new start I cannot let the darkness inside cripple me afterall I have still got a whole world to see.
I am the creator of my own happiness, and hence, likewise of my darkness, I am the only one who can make things right, I must give my all to win this fight.
Because at the end of the day, I know it's not okay.
-Videsha
(B.A Program)
(Edited by Priyambada and Pallavi)
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