"Sadness is but a wall between two gardens"-Khalil Gibran

Here, I stand all alone in my room. A room with four walls and a door, as usual. My walls are painted black. A dark, intense shade of black. These walls have witnessed ME. They are the spectators of my nightmares, my breakdowns, my most heart-shattering moments.

Day by day these walls become huge and huge. The rooms seems smaller and smaller. It feels like - eventually I will be crushed by these walls. I will be buried under this room with a heavy heart and a melancholy mind. I fight the urge to rip apart my own body; I want to stagger my heart; I want the blood in my arteries to turn blue; I want my neurons to stop the synapse before these walls can. But I'm afraid I might float away to an even a darker place, when I end my misery.

Something catches my eye and I turn towards the door. I see the world. I see people. Happy people. walking through the flowery streets and chirping their thoughts aloud. Some of them being my family too.

But wait... 

Why are they all so comfortable to roam around? Why don't they live in a dark room as mine? Don't they have walls do be intimidated by?

They all seem so carefree. As if their mind is a seamless ocean of emotions. I wish I could dive in it. I wish I had one of mine. Many seem to notice me and many more choose to ignore.

"Hey girl. How you doing?" - they said with a bright smile.

Can they not see me? Can they not notice my vulnerability? Can they not sense that I'm battling my own personality?

I choose to awash them with my delusional smile. 

Oh...

They believed me. They saw me smile and walked away.

Just as I am about to turn away, I hear my mother speaking to my father - " Do you know how strong she is? Her mind may be a chaotic mess but she is a warrior at her heart".

And I feel empowered. I feel stronger somehow. I see a ray of hope. Maybe I am a warrior ? 

I turn around and decide to paint my walls RED. Or BLUE .  Or GREEN . Or WHITE ? Maybe I should just mix all the colors and let them splash their essence on me. I so desperately want to fathom the outside world.

I step out of my room. The air is filled with ecstatic fragrance as it enters my lungs and I can finally breathe. I feel feather-light. I now understand how people feel to be on this side of my door. 

Is this real or am I just dreaming again in my dark room? 

                      ~ FIGHT DEPRESSION ~