Saturation Point

— From the diary nobody gets to read.

Yaar koshish karo, theek ho jaye ga.

Nobody really tells you how much you’re going to end up hating yourself through recovery. Because your ‘koshish’ doesn’t look like much of one. Because even when you’re trying your best, you’re not really doing much. Because when you keep zoning out at 4 in the afternoon or 9 at night or at 2 in the morning, it’s really all your fault.

Bus kr do, theek ho jao ab.

It’s really all your fault for not doing better, for not pulling your weight better, for letting your thoughts take over, for not being stronger, for not being better at dealing with things. It’s really all your fault for letting everything that happened happen. You should have stopped all of that from influencing you, from getting to you, from making you sensitive, from making you scared, from making you smaller than you are. You should have coped better, chosen healthier ways to deal with it all.

Kuch bhi nahi hai, mat socha kro itna.

It’s on you for thinking so much. And then you wonder, how would you explain this to those around you? How do you explain what it’s like in your head? It’s like a malfunctioning alarm clock that constantly goes off at the wrong times. It wakes you up in the middle of the night, blaring loudly and ruining your sleep. It goes off in the morning when you’re already awake, causing unnecessary stress and chaos. You try to turn it off, but it just keeps going and going, no matter how hard you try to silence it.

Saturation points are funny like that. You never really know when you’re going to hit your absolute worst, which conveniently is six feet under rock bottom and there’s no way out, the more you thrash and attempt to get out, the more you sink.

I wonder, sometimes, what it would be like if I could string enough words together to explain the weight of everything I carry and how heavy it gets sometimes.

Sometimes you want to bash your head through a wall because it’s gotten so heavy. Sometimes you want to see blood pouring out of your eyes because there’s no other way people would believe the weight of everything is heavier than you can bear. Other times, you will try once again to keep going, to keep holding on.

Question is, how long do you keep going with the hopes that it will all go away one day? How long before your heart gives out? How long before your mind shuts down on you permanently?

Answer — You’ll have to find out, really. It’s entirely your fault, after all.