Fractured

Each year, October 10 is ‘celebrated’ as World Mental Health Day. Mental health continues to remain one of the least understood and highly stigmatized topics. This is not an attempt at anything. This is what it is.

Despite the agonizing pain,
the knowledge that there’s nothing left to retrieve or build,
that no remedy will come whatsoever,
I keep a face that defies the internal commotion.
I smile and I laugh and I indulge in small talk,
I make jokes.
I try.
If only, the nature of my illness could reveal itself to you.

You will never understand why I can’t pick myself up-
when I surely seem okay.
Why I eat up all those colourful candies and fancy chocolates-
and everything they throw at my face,
like a trash can.
That’s how I feel,
always.

I’m a trash can that lies
about my dents;
that lies so very often
to save itself,
from itself.
And you will never know that I lie,
because sometimes I don’t know either-
and sometimes when I don’t-
don’t lie I mean,
I feel the ache of having said and not been understood.

And it’s not your fault,
you cannot understand.
And when you try, and that so diligently-
you get it for a day,
maybe two or more.
But then you won’t,
because it’s hard, really hard.
And I will not blame you for that.
I just wish that you know,
when I won’t be around to tell you,
that I am grateful you tried-
but it could not suffice.
Maybe next time with someone else,
I hope there will be nothing to regret.