*Numb*

Sometimes you feel so disconnected from everything that you don't even want to try to connect. You are with your friends, your family, your pet but you feel nothing. There's no trace of emotions. No sign of happiness. No sign of sadness either. You're just numb. Numb to the petty jokes, numb to the nasty comments, numb to the cute 'I love yous' , numb to everything that meant something to you. All you wanna do is cry, loudly, letting everything out but, you can't. You don't want to worry those around you. You don't want to answer their questions. You want to talk but not personally. Because when someone asks what's wrong all that comes out of your mouth is a sigh and your eyes tear up. So.. you write.

#rajkumari
#review #everyone #musing

#review #musing #everyone

I walked beside him looking at our feet match the steps. He put his arm around me pulling me closer and I slipped my hand around his waist.
We walked a while, maybe a mile with comfortable silences and warm words.
I woke up then, wishing to be woken up by him instead of a dream.

#rajkumari

He woke up in the middle of the night to attend to nature’s call. It was eerily quiet, quieter than usual. He looked for his phone in the dark, but it was nowhere to be found. He could not risk turning on the light, for he did not want yet another sleepless night. He walked to the washroom without turning the lights on. No sooner did he open the door to his washroom than he stumbled upon someone and fell on the floor. Next to him was a body he stumbled upon. Screaming at the top of his voice, he struggled to turn on the bulb in the washroom. He went from panting to breathing heavily to being unable to breathe at all. It was not because of finding a body lying in a pool of blood in his house where he lived alone. It most certainly was not. It was because of the appearance, the physique of the body lying on the floor. Dark, long and silky hair. Brown eyes, wide open, staring into the abyss. A slightly twisted nose, as if it had been smashed while the deceased was a little kid. Ears so huge, popping out of his face, as if they’d been affixed with glue to his face. A young lean, tall boy. A boy he had known for the longest time, a boy he truly cared about, a boy he truly loved. While a part of him could not stop thinking about how it could have happened and what could have happened, a part of him wondered how it was possible. He looked at the pale body, blood drained out of it, touched it, and it was real. How could it be even possible? Was he losing it? Was he delusional, after staying at home for too long? How could his own body be lying dead in a pool of blood, with his wrist slashed? If he were dead, how could he feel his own body? The thought that bothered him the most was, ‘How could he do the thing he was most afraid of?’ He spent his entire life, fearing almost everything from water to fire, from land to sky, from animals to humans, only because he was afraid of death. His fear of death led to an irrational fear of almost everything, especially because he could never bring himself to understand death, to accept the idea of it or to welcome it. And yet, here he was, looking at his own lifeless body in front of him. Had the fear faded away? Perhaps not. Had the pain ended? Perhaps not. His urge to end his pain resulted in a life full of pain, perhaps forever. He lived the night that was never to last.

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