Melancholic Existence.

I hear voices from deep inside my head. So deep and so loud  that I barely hear the talks around me. They keep trapping me within me.  It's as if something is wrong, something is malfunctioning and needs serious repair. Its like a puddle. A prison that fits me so well that I can't even move an inch. Its difficult to breathe here despite the presence of excess oxygen. My hand trembles. Really bad. My head aches, muscles bulge. Nothing in me demands to live. Every part feels numb, broken from every edge.

    Its been a long time now. A couple of years and still nothing has changed. Then; when it started I tried telling myself everything would go back to how it was. I promised myself  I'd be okay.  But I was   wrong.  Everything gradually got worse and worst. Things changed, some inside me and some around me. I can't find reasons to stay with people whom I adored the most in the past. I hate things I used to love once . Maturity probably has been another change. Every time somebody asks me if I'm fine, I don't have an answer.

But do they really want to truth?
Do I even have an answer to describe what I have been going through?
         
 Of the many questions I ask myself, one is "why are inner demons so strong that even the bestest of angels dissolve in my mixture of desolation and woe?"

"Is it so back-breaking for somebody  to understand that it hurts?"

 I know I need to fight this but  I can't. The demons are really strong and I've been feeble. This battle is really hard. Just another endless game, and the scars it gives invisible but nothing else hurt like this.

Such a melancholic existence, isn't it?


Anushka