She still remembered the date , each and every waking moment of that day she had fallen apart.
After 3 years , she was almost completely convinced that there could be no one who could touch her soul , no one could truly understand her- the fire and the passion that drove her consciousness . She was different , from the way she thought to the depths of her heart. Her soul was so beautifully scarred from battles she had fought, like the lace on a soft muslin cloth. She had risen, like a Phoenix from the ashes. Strong, with the madness to prove herself flaming like never before.
From the outside it’s easy to presume that someone has everything figured out, just because her hair was curled and her cheeks had been intentionally flushed, like her Demons would be like the scarlet scarf she wore over a white dress, completely noticeable. Everyone around her believed that pain only existed if you’re bleeding or your hand is hanging from a cast. But the most painful Demons are the ones you can’t see. So she learnt how to smile, grin and bear it because no one liked to talk about what she used to go through.
When she was hurt she used to feel like every cell in her body was moving so fast that her veins were blurry. Her heart would beat so fast that in her ears it sounded like an irregular drumbeat, it felt like bees being stuffed into your ears , like a broken sound machine playing every sound at once. Outside.. she is biting her lips, scratching her nails or twirling that gold band on her finger , feeling like she was the bridge between her nightmares and reality. She is avoiding eye contact because she is noticing her own voice which is a little higher from the way she normally speaks, wishing that you don’t make a negative meaning out of it. She feels that somehow she is moving faster than the 60 seconds that have been allowed in a minute. Most of the time she cries thinking about the problems, problems that don’t even exist and are just manifestations of her mind , just trying to breakout of her head and go away somewhere far. The hurt to her, feels like fire! Hot , uncontrollable , rash and frustrating. Somehow things don’t add up the way we used to in class.. to carry the one and find the square root. There is no rhyme or reason she feels like this, there is just life and feelings and she is feeling all of it AT ONCE!
Some days she can handle it, some days it gets worse. But everyday means a new beginning for her. Another chance that her wounds don’t remind her of the past that is horrifying and affects her every single time she thinks about it.
She had got control on the situations, on how she faced them.. But facing herself was the most terrifying nightmare.
She has 89% anxiety.
picture credits – Alexandru Crisan (charcoal artist)