Walking out of misery

Every day is not your day.
Life is about losing some rounds and winning others.
You can’t have each and every trophy up there on your mantelpiece.
Life will throw you down; life might drive you to the extent of playing around with knives on your wrists.

Somewhere in, what may seem to you, a pathetic excuse for a life, you shall have to face defeat, you shall have to bear with the loss of your loved ones, you shall be served rejection.
At times your entrees might just keep on coming .
A new dish every time.
Rejection plated up, a million different ways.
Steamed.
Deep-fried.
Sautéed.
Ever try putting salt on an earthworm as it glides in the rain?
Seen its adrenaline- powered morbid dance as it shrivels up and death consumes it?
When that kind of a thing is the only thing that makes you feel in control, your life is over.

When in distress , we opt to seek refuge.
Some of us find solace in music , others in religion.
Do what you need to do cause locking yourself up in the bedroom wont help . Neither will hurling stones in the water at Hawks Bay. Find a passion and divert your energy towards it.
There is always something to look forward to so find that one thing and be happy about it.
I could tell you a million methods to beat depression but I have found that there is only one fool-proof method to it and that’s going pedestrian.

Walk, walk , walk!!!
Nothing clears the mind like a stroll around the park. A slightly brisk walk on the road or a jog around the sports complex won’t hurt either. The faster , the better.
Just leave your Ipod at home.
Yes, listening to Evanescence does make matters worse.
Your walk should be your me time , a time to make sense of your life , put your affairs in order, in the compartments of your head and start afresh. Jogging away blankly is the best though if some serious matters are troubling you , shut out the world and run into the sunset.
Trust me , a day will come when you will become sick of licking your wounds and you will smile again.

"I'm learning to walk again
I believe I've waited long enough
Where do I begin?
I'm learning to talk again
Can't you see I've waited long enough
Where do I begin?" - Foo Fighters.

The perfect day to die.

I sit at my favorite spot , the chatt above the chatt.

I wish I had worn an upper, the air has that characteristic cold feel to it that all summer-winter transient airs possess.
The mynahs rummage in the rubble , hopeful for a breadcrumb or two.
The Beatles play.
The crows wander astray above me.
"Waits at the window, wearing the face that she keeps in a jar by the door
Who is it for?"

There is something serene, almost  perfect about this moment.

Something absolutely serene , absolute in the sense that it would never come again.

I feel like there would be , should be no tomorrow.

It should end today , right now.

It has been for quite some time now that the suicidal thoughts have been kept at bay.

Years have passed since I last held the knife to my wrist.

But today all the reason comes reeling back.

Today seems to be the perfect time to die , with the mynahs watching , the crows swaying to the wind's chime, with all the lonely people and their lone footsteps.

Everything I could ever want in life , exact at nineteen, I have and yet I am so unhappy , so so unhappy.

Who knows how life would be , from here on?

Better kill myself, right now in this perfect , serene moment.

Today is the perfect day to die.

I walk out towards the railing, in angle of the the armpit between the nurses' hostel and the building on which I am perched , is a void.

In that void , I belong.

But the fall won't kill ?!?!

Maybe break a leg or two , but not kill.

But hey! I could aim for the barbed wire and the pointed metal bars on the wall.
They would cut right through me.

Suddenly , the Azaan sounds.

My foot , on the verge of the railing now, hesitates.

The twin towers of the Bahawalpur block mock me , for they and I , both , are imprisoned.

They in stone, cement, varnish.

I, in this human body.