Until Next Time
“It wasn’t that I wanted to go home Who knew home? I only knew alone. What I wanted was to be elsewhere, Somewhere, anywhere but there.” I am forever longing for death. When people around me crave to live, I could never derive meaning out of their desire! I always wanted to die… Slowly, painlessly and alone. Over the time, my death instinct has become an inexorable habitual thought. To me, self-harming is a matter of immense solace because I am always incapable of describing those momentary emotions which visit me, intermittently. I am yearning to merge into there, into that infinite nothingness. Until very recently, nothing ever had the power of diluting my urge to die. But this October came and faded, leaving a swelling torment. Now, I am aware of how death can grab away the soul of the living with that of the dead. Eleven nights have withered since she slept, forever, without putting me to sleep. At benumbed nights, I extract mute frames from the endless