Raindrops And Warm Hugs » maydays

you're gonna be okay :)

(i was supposed to post this yesterday but I was really tired :c

It was World Suicide Prevention Day yesterday, and I penned something down to provide a little hope, maybe? And just a big, comforting hug)

Trails are lost, you cannot follow
The path you paved to chase your passion;
A lonely wanderer, in a world
Dripping with blood, tears are no compensation.

It certainly is a heart wrenching situation when, after countless attempts at accomplishing a certain goal, we meet a turn in the course of events; a dreadful dead-end, an unwanted change, a petrifying image of the future that follows.

Tears don't make anything better — the world is cruel, and the situations are even worse.

---

An absence of love always marred
My mind into a never-ending state of turmoil;
My parents were never there, nor was another,
At the touch of affection, my hands would recoil.

It is never easy for a person to survive without love — even more so, a child to grow up without parental love. The lack of even the bare minimum attempts at receiving affection leaves us so tormented emotionally that we cannot get used to suddenly being shown care. It truly feels like asking for love is asking for a bit too much.

—

Heart doesn't beat the same way anymore,
For it feels like something is amiss;
There is surely a piece of me lacking,
Lost in the delusions of my world of eternal bliss.

Mental illnesses are as important and agonizing as physical ailments. And when the soul feels empty, and the heart feels unsatisfied, the mind riles us with thoughts of the worst. Delusions strike, and somehow, we seek comfort in those visions of distorted reality, customized to fit our needs and wants.

But a piece of ours still resides in that world.

—

Hands trailing across my body,
I shiver whenever I relive that disgusting memory;
Against my wish, against my consent,
The darkest night, the darkest treachery.

It is disturbing to be touched without consent. It is surely triggering, as it is scarring. The darkest nights bring the heaviest traumas; only the victim remembers each second of the torment.

—

The weighing scale tips up,
My body trembling on the cold glass;
I cannot eat more, can I,
Or will, as a beauty, I pass?

Body image is something that terrifies us all at one point of time — being too skinny or too heavy, being curvy or flat, being good enough to be looked at or not.

The mind spirals down deeper, and it becomes inescapable to let go of the incorrect perceptions of our own, beautiful selves.

—

I cry out tonight,
So listen, my love,
As I sing you a dreamy lullaby;
For you are a rare piece of treasure,
A gorgeous piece of art,
The sound of music, so soothing —
A butterfly, who knows not its worth,
For it never saw its wings.
You lost a trail, yet you paved one
For the wanderers behind you;
You were never loved,
Yet, here I am, ready to shower all of mine on you;
Your heart beats the same no more,
But listen to my heartbeat —
It is the same as yours;
Your body is tainted with scars of a nightmare,
Please, let me heal you;
Your self love is forlorn,
So I am here to remind you
That your younger self still adores you
The way you are:
With your flaws and highs and lows,
And your teary-eyed smiles and hopeless sighs.

This day is dedicated to you
And your fearless battle against your demons;
For you are strong and courageous
To have fought all this time,
And I promise you —
You will win.