6 months, 13 days into nothingness is a difficult time...
Holding on to the hanging bedsheets
Trying to figure out why my hands cannot feel anything
My eyes burned and smell faded each day
The sound of the songs which cried their hearts out did not reach my ears
There was a deafening silence all around me
I could feel trapped into thick bar of flesh that belonged to someone else
Nothing was like me
Not even the face which I had carried so many years resembled the same anymore
Each day I sat with a comb in front of a mirror that reflected someone else in front of me
6 months and 13 days I lost my thick locks because I tried to scrape myself from the head to get that old me back
I plucked my own hairs
I self inflicted injuries until I felt the pain and slept under its effect
I was trapped in my own mind, in my own body
I hung from the corner of the bed
Then other days I sat idle for 3 days doing nothing
Each passing day took me into faded version of myself
A demon grabbed my shoulders and took me into shadows
And I didn't know how to live in her world
For 6 months and 13 days I have wondered why I couldn't shed off the weight from my legs that didn't want to carry me to places
People didn't matter
Forget them
I didn't matter
The things that kept me alive-
The passing smiles, the silent poetries someone read in my ears and the sunlight.
Someone unknown whispering to me in the dead of the night
"Tyger Tyger burning bright"
Until I burnt bright like wounded kennel of miserable dogs.
There was no tiger but the bloodstream in my veins burnt and it provided me hope to think myself to be strong
I felt better on days when I was lucky enough to hear those whispers
I still had something to hold on to - things that come in slow whispers, fleeting images and excessive brightness.
Things that surpass looks, talks, wealth.
Until one day, tears rolled down my eyes and after months I could hear the sound of the fan running on the ceiling
My well wishers cried that day and I noticed as if for the first time.
since that day
I fail at telling people how demonic that experience was
Because 6 months and 13 days into depression cannot be defined.
I am still incapable of describing it.