“How are you?”
I am fine. Except for the fact that I want to feel lonely at times, just to feel that numbness and find silence inside, I am fine.
I let people go, not because they want to, but because I want to be alone, I reply brutally or misbehave, snapping the ties, bonds that we shared. I just don’t care at times.
And some days I keep talking, trying to rejuvenate the old relations. I hit our happy moments and manipulate them into missing me. I don’t know how long this trick will work neither do I know why I let them go at first.
Somewhere I know what I do and how my childish talks hide the devil inside me, who sometimes show itself when I stand in front of the mirror and roar into the emptiness that has crept in my life.
I am fine. Except the fact that I want to stay locked in rooms for hours, all alone, and sense how my soul is all scarred, and unloved, and how it has started craving for touch. I am fine.
There are phases I feel. Some days I am strong enough to help myself, and sometimes I am just weak, in search of a shoulder to lay my head on. But then, I trust none. Everyone is a story, where I ain’t living forever. Or might have had, just don’t want to.
Then I repeat things till they become a habit, and forget to feel. Like I lose time and people, and myself frequently, and now it is nothing more than a routine. You see I am a tough girl; I don’t shed tears over it.
But then some nights all these experiences set volcanoes in my heart, activate the demons inside me, who sometimes show themselves when I stand in front of the mirror and roar, erupting lava from within.
I am fine. Except the fact that you don’t want to hear this all, but you have still asked how am I. You know my reply would be a lie, because I am you and you are me, and we meet every night when sleep doesn’t come on time. We sit face to face, making and eye contact and yet we lie. I have created these walls, around myself, I prefer to peep and seek, and sometimes remove some bricks, but never can I break it. You know the reason why.
It’s just how it works, I can’t even tell my image, that I am not fine.
“I am fine.”
~Via the girl who smiled wide so that she could convince everyone and mostly herself that no one could break her.
YOU ARE READING
ZEPHYR
RandomShe was constantly turning melancholy Into poetry Splattering the pain, that Coursed through her veins Onto pages of blank paper And watching, as her pain Wrote beautiful verses Turning pain into an art form Making people cry, at How something so ug...
