Posted in Prose

A little honey on my chilli flakes.

(For Marcia, Mark and Melvin)

Perhaps I would like to have a teeny bit of honey on my chilli flakes simply just to mellow down the rush and roar of the heavy spiciness that would linger on my tongue for God knows how long. I love the spice that excites my slithering tongue but it is long and I am weary of this monotonous spice and hotness. How long and how much more of this spice? Can I have a little change in the normal way of my things? Perhaps, honey on my chilli flakes? They say your flakes you have earned and all that spice and fire in your tongue you deserve for the works of your life. But can I please have a change of my menu here? A little honey maybe on my chilli flakes? I have had this spice for years now- on chicken, sandwiches, burgers, curries and fries. I am forgetting to mention but I have had flakes on sweets as well. Inevitably they land everywhere and whatever I eat as if flakes were salt on a normal basis of my life. While they have made my life a big era of boredom they have tired me, frightened me to the depths of the oceans and made my senses go haywire. I am done with these chilli flakes dawdling my life with no ultimate cause or reason yet messing my life in all the ways possible. Trust me, I try hard to sweep my life clean from all these chilli flakes that lie scattered all around and in every nook and cranny after a horrendous argument, unpleasant disagreements and harsh walkaways of people-spicy, spicier, spiciest and sweet, sweeter, sweetest. I try hard to keep me clean of these flakes that add an extra amount of madness in my attitude but they stick close, closer than ever.
Well, now I yearn for a little honey on my chilli flakes for the flakes refuse to leave so a little honey might calm down the rush and roar of flakes on my life and my poor tongue. I poured out a little honey on these flakes that stayed intact and they seemed to have silenced themselves now. I see the thick honey roll down the chilli flakes, embracing them together, passionately falling over and under each of them they hardly could flaunt their spiciness anymore. The honey trickling down and all over, smoothing out the rather ferocious attitudes of the flakes that for so long messed with me and bored and roared on my taste buds, I now wonder- “Why in the whole wide world didn’t I possibly not think of honey on my chilli flakes? ” I like it this way, the honey and flakes have embraced themselves and made love they can’t separate themselves from the beds of my tongue. As for my mouth, it gives them all the privacy in the world to love, look into each other’s souls and lose themselves in the intimacy that never happened in their lives. Why didn’t I think of honey on my flakes? The boredom I talked of earlier is far gone and the weariness and tiredness have walked a long way away from me now. It was honey that came to my rescue and that mellowed down the spiciness of the chilli flakes that specked on the pastures of my life. The redness of the chillies seem to be humble and quite when I pour out a little honey on them every time they mess up and roar on the grounds of my life and bang hard on the walls of my mind. The honey does the magic now, it soothes, spreads out its sweetness all around the madness and somehow melts away the havoc rising in me. So now when the chilli flakes roar at me, I simply order a teeny bit of honey to be poured all over. For when they meet, they seem to have a special way of calming down each other. It’s good you know- A little honey on the chilli flakes.

Posted in Prose

When depression and anxiety dropped by

This is not a cry for help, just a cry.

Lights off. I settle in bed, shuffling my blankie in the cosiest way I want. There’s a knock on my door. And then things changed, the cosiness was gone, the night was colder than ever before and the lights remained off for longer than I can possibly remember now. I lost myself that night, I found not the pieces of my sanity and my mind flickered like a candle in the storm. I am taking a painful ride through the worst of times, desperation, devastateness and emptiness and trust me it is no fun ride but an agonising walk through the wilderness. Let me see, I have decimated from being good to being empty and hollow and that does not sound any good, does it? I have no good, convincing reasons as to why I have been falling but it’s hurtful and exhausting. My mother looks at me and sees a happy child, my father sees a hardworking, passionate girl and my brother sees a fun sister but I have a well deep in me that I have covered with something of a huge thing on the top and let pretty creeper plants grow all over it, they cover the sides and fall over from the edges now. I am wide, gaping well that has in it trash, vain thoughts and trash again.

I thought I was doing great, posting happy, positive things on social media, connecting back with friends and healing from a heartbreak when suddenly depression and anxiety stopped by to say Hallo and check in on me. They stayed for long and they have decided to stay on. Now I wake up each day wanting to sleep on, never being grateful for my existence, apathetic to the birds outside my window and the sun peeping through the cracks. I pull myself together to get myself to freshen up and let positive vibes take over me but I tick-tick on my phone and I see my friends smiling with their best friends, I see the world falling apart, nations fights against each other, people giving up on themselves and people writing, “Everything will be alright”. I pull myself again to eat and work hard to build my career. What do you think? I don’t work or study,? I do. I start with writing a paper, a minute later check my phone, an hour later read a book, five minutes and I walk around aimlessly, then maybe go and binge eat and then worry about putting on weight and then study again because I have to do well and be the topper I always was and then scroll endlessly on social media and then I feel devastated about the things happening with me and I go to a corner to cry and let out repressed emotions. Fresh air would do some good so I stare out the window and then think, think and think about how caged I felt. Well, writing has always helped, so I settle down with my laptop and begin to write. I write two sentences and feel overwhelmed. Maybe sleeping will help. I slump on the couch and shut my eyes and then wake up in a jiffy because I dreamt something disturbing. So nothing helped. I try to text a friend and realise they are doing sensible things unlike me who was always ruminating. Trust me it’s been hard.

My mind’s been swinging like a pendulum and I have tried staying put but I seem to oscillate every minute of the day. I feel lost, empty and hopeless. My depression and anxiety eating me up like a ferocious animal, I feel like a helpless creature in the mouth of my predator. I have become a vagabond in my own streets, a stranger within myself and I have lost my way. How do you expect me to reach out to you when I have lost myself in the highways and bylanes of my messy life? Or do you expect me to call or reach out? Or do you even know that I am shattered?

I am sorry if I don’t return your calls or reply back to your texts, it’s just that I don’t feel like but I still love you. I am not sure if you get it, if you don’t it’s hard to explain. I am dying each day and I don’t feel like reaching out. The last time I did, you gave up on me, you told that on my face and though you did apologise I still hesitate to come to you and be a burden and a leech that would not go away. I called you when I wanted to talk but I have cut calls almost immediately. I am sorry but I have deleted your number on my phone and erased all your memories from my phone because you associate with a lot of traumas. I am sorry.

Ever since depression and anxiety met up with me, I have been unable to get rid of them. The days are long and the nights are terrorizing. I sit still all night wondering why I am staying awake and in the mornings I just don’t feel like waking up to face a new day. I spend my days doing so many things that I believe would distract me but at the end of the day I fail. Fail drastically. I have lost a fight that I never thought I will even have to face. The heaviness in the heart, the haziness in the mind, the insomnia, the starvation, the gloominess, the tiredness, the pessimism, the shutting out, the tears and the lethargy are genuine. Please don’t term these as “Nothing” because I wake up each day to do better but I have failed. The reason for the depression I don’t know and the anxiety, sweating of hands, exhaustion and the ruminating mind I cannot explain. So if you think I am faking it, I am not even asking you to be anywhere around me. I don’t want the help, I don’t want to reach out or talk right now. I want the two guests to leave and be gone.

And hey,

This is not a cry for help, just a cry.