Madness

It’s maddening. Everything. Everything drives me mad. Everyone drives me mad. It is as if the explosion of big bang is occurring into my brain right at this moment and every bit of sense is being torn apart into millions of pieces, going away and away, until the distance gets too long to cover and I am left forever with my emotions, sensibility, and feelings circling some pointless origin, incomprehensible, unreachable and my whole life is then spent in futile, desperate attempts of fixing the pieces together so that my life, the reason of my existence, this whole maniac-pointless puzzle could make some sense to me. I feel that my pieces are being grinded and turned into fine powder and that powder is then thrown into the deepest pits of ocean where no one could even locate my trace. I’d lie there, scattered for centuries, beneath that scary, cold, dark water. I won’t be able to make any sound. I won’t be able to return to surface.

I hate this powerlessness and hopelessness I feel in every bit of my body and mind. I feel I am not me. I can’t control me. My thoughts are not mine. I am controlled or possessed. It hurts. It hurts in every inch of my body, yet I can’t tell you exactly were it hurts. This is excruciating. I can sense my veins pumping in anger. This anger overpowers me. Overshadows me. The world stops existing. Every sound stops. It is the silence of cold death. It is fear. It is pain. It is anger. It is helplessness. It is despair. It is rage. It is every joy being turned brutally into something that won’t stop haunting you at night and won’t let you sleep.

I haven’t slept properly in days. I just can’t sleep. Nightmares keep recurring every time I shut my eyes. I don’t remember what I see but I can feel the horror of it when I look at my reflection in the mirror every morning. I feel like shouting out loud, so loud that my eyes pop out and then I could pick up my eyeballs and try to look inside my head from the eye socket. I have become obsessed about every morbid, disturbing, sick event or incident that has happened in the world. I can’t stop reading books about them, watching videos and movies of such people and events and then carrying those images and excerpts around my shoulders. I can’t control my obsession. It spills over me like the black gooey waste from the factories spill over the pure, sacred, free-spirited rivers, darkening them forever.

People say I couldn’t name one thing that is not right in my life. I have got everything. What should I be worried or stressed or disturbed about. And if I do so, it’s because I am intentionally choosing to do so. I am making me bad or sad. Truth is, I am not. Don’t you look at me with those eyes. I don’t want your fake show of understanding, or your deep spiritual lecture, or sympathy. You can save it for your time in hell. There’s something wrong with me and I am trying to find it out and fix it. But it’s hidden. Buried somewhere deep inside. I find myself so restless, indecisive, and confused. And sometimes tired. And sometimes tired of being tired. Tired of being tired of being tired. It can go on forever. Just like that, in emptiness and dullness, it will revolve and revolve endlessly, purposelessly.

I feel too many people live inside me, fighting a war for deciding who will dominate me. I get overwhelmed by my own compassion and sensitivity at one moment and the very next I hide under the sheets, too scared to even let one foot out of it. I feel like getting filled up as a choked sewer line. There will come a point when the pipeline could take no more and that one last push would act as a trigger and make all these terrifying, nasty, choked mess inside me to burst out and flood everything.

My demons are my own. You can’t see them. You won’t know what’s living inside of me until I tell you and be assured that I won’t tell you. But when this is not happening, I am happy. I am cheerful, spreading joy and positivity, encouraging people to take charge of their lives, discover a purpose and passion and live for something. Create something beautiful and meaningful. I feel like the happiest, luckiest, smartest, sexiest girl ever, the one who could attain the realms of fame and glory and make this world a better place to live in. After all, I’ve got everything. There’s nothing I should stress or worry about!

One thought on “Madness”

  1. I will admit I read the first few paragraphs, but due to my own tiredness I skim read the rest, but I am sorry that you feel that way. I hate when people try to make you feel that your problems are less than they are (reference to: People say I couldn’t name one thing that is not right in my life.) and I want you to know that you have a right to feel the way you do. I have been going through tough times too and I know how it sucks. I want to offer you some condolences and comfort but I always say the wrong things in these situations, but you’ll be ok alright?

    I read a quote once that said something along the lines of, “in the end everything will be ok, if it’s not ok, it is not the end” so just keep fighting back those demons and things will get better. I hope you get some sleep tonight and can conquer your demons. People care about you, whether you know it or not so have faith in yourself to overcome your obstacles and you will, and continue to do, great things.

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