There is a voice inside which usually never interfered with the way how I lived my life. However, recently the conflict between us has increased a lot. The issues are not too outrageous, just contemplations regarding mental health. We have often started having these debates whether this phenomenon called “depression” could be an actual possibility.

My life is the same. My boons are the same. My demons are the same. Nothing has actually changed, only shifted shape to alter their appearance. My family is amazing, could not have asked for more. They are my invisible source of absolute strength. They are my roots, which build that sense of security and warmth which always remind you that you have a place to return to. But they don’t know me. Not all of it. Not this side of it. It is not that I am keeping something away from them or hiding it. But I do not know if apart from getting worried about me, me talking to them would bring something better to us. They who live miles away would just be worried day-night about something even I am not sure of.

Maybe close proximity would have sorted that out, but I have friends for it. They are there. To hang out with. To laugh with. To watch movies with. To share with. To discuss with. Yes, there is a close proximity, but it is a more physical than a mental thing. These emotions are turning out to be much more complex, complicated and deceiving than I originally thought them to be. And as luck favours the might of the strong, mine certainly has a foot hanging in its grave.

Also, the situation I am in is nothing new. What I feel inside and what I feel outside has been kept separately for a long time and now comes as natural to me as breathing. Afterall, this is not the first time I have been in a shitty phase. Rather, I move to greener pastures just to change the scenery and return back to my deadbeat situation as fast I could. That is my modus operandi. That is the way I roll. So this situation feels as comfortable as home to me. The feelings though are somewhat different. Actually, of indifference. Nothing affects me. It seems like the reservoir of feelings which used to overflow earlier has been dried up and only the cracked up soil at the base of it could be seen being eroded every now and then, which does not emulate even a single sigh.

My appetite has affected. I have been lazy, still, I can sense that my drive has been affected. I never knew my destination, but lost wasn’t the word I would have ever thought of associating myself with. My life feels broken into fragments. I truly feel like an autumn leaf, plucked and blown away by a dry wind on a whim, who itself is now disinterested in me and my future. So am I.

The only reason I have not been captured by any vice is maybe that my will to control the way I live is too adamant. Anything which could make me end up in a situation where I don’t know what I am doing, or rather I am not in total control of what I am doing, scares the hell out of me. I did not have had any suicidal thoughts but did wonder a lot if physical pain counters this numbness, or if people would give a shit if I died and to what extent. Will they feel any emotion towards it, like of a loss? Or will it be one of those situations where you feel shocked, wondering how they seemed perfectly alright whenever you met and this was such a stupid step at their end, labelling them pansy or coward?

Maybe it is not only me. Maybe we all are forgetting how to emote because we have limited our emotions to a few generic emoticons we use. We are being emotionally imbalanced due to pouring down of our emotions into limited predefined moulds. Our body does not know what to do if we accidentally tap on to a more complex emotion, than those the moulds of which we have. Or maybe have willingly discarded it as it rarely seems of any practical use today, like empathy.

However, it still is not clear to me if I am going through depression, even though online tests have labelled me with ultimate depression. What I feel though is a loneliness which cannot be filled by anyone or anything. And the last thread which saved me from this gaping hole till now seemed like a sliver of hope has been identified for what it truly was. Mirage.

I am truly okay with it. At least I know its true value, so I would not dream of selling it for the riches. The voice keeps me an okay company, so it is not that alone. To the fellows riding the same ship, not knowing what you are living for does not mean not living at all. What it means is a puzzle. I will let you know if I solve it.





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