Caution: This is going to be a pretty long read. I advise the reader to proceed at his own risk. However, If you're reading this, please read the entire thing to the end. Here goes.
Words have always been an escape for me. Sure that I can always be counted upon to express myself pretty damn fine whenever I speak, there is something that gets to me every single time I put a pen to paper. But this time, I would solely write for myself. Maybe someone else would read this one day, but until that time, it’s just gonna be me.
So how do I begin? Let’s just start with how I feel right now. I’m currently sitting in a place that I used to call my home for 19 straight years. But now, it's just a place that's causing me PTSD. I employed the words “used to” here because simply put, I don’t know where home is anymore. Why don’t I feel at home anymore? Because it is just not what it used to be. Home is where the heart is. I don’t know where my heart is anymore.
I’m just so alone at this place whenever I come back. Papa’s always busy with his office. I don’t know why but I just don’t connect with him anymore. Maa’s busy as well. She has her lessons some days, she’ll go out to get stuff some days, something or the other. On top of everything else, I know that my Maa is a very strong woman. But she has seen so much till date that she’s just exhausted. If I see her first thing in the morning, my first thought would be she’s so tired. She gets very very annoyed when she’s tired. And that happens almost all the time. Sister? we haven't lived in the same house for the past 8 years and she's anyways too busy for me. Who else? There’s my pet. But for him, it’s just that I’m in his house trying to sneak away some affection from his parents. He treats me like literally, I’m his dog. Though he considers everyone at home his servant, he has some special insecurity from me.
Friends? Huh? I don’t even know what are those. All my friends are gone. Deepak? Busy with his father’s profession and following his idea of becoming a politician. Adya? Always busy. Doesn’t even have time to respond to my messages. Yash? Lives barely a kilometer away and despite me telling him multiple times that I wanna see him, never have time. Jay? Has 12th standard board exams coming up. I know he’s tied up and I don’t wanna bother him. Adit? He’s gone. Moved out. Though he still lives in the same city it’s not possible to see him because he doesn’t have time for me. I don’t really count anybody else as a close friend. So these people would have to do. But this one’s not about any of them. This one’s about me. Let’s go back to where I think the problems started.
18 years old. Life's going perfectly fine. All-rounder. Great student. A national level athlete in multiple sports. International awardee in a few different academic fields other than sports. 9+ GPA and everything. The kid who everyone looked up to in school. The kid whose achievements were given out as examples to others. typical "Sharma Ji ka beta".
I had just celebrated my parent's 25th marriage anniversary yesterday. And today my grandfather died. After three years of struggling with Parkinson's disease, he finally made peace. I'm from India. We have a custom that the son does all the final rites in case of a parent's death. My uncle had died when I was in 4th grade and after that, my grandparents had raised me more like a son, than a grandson. They even called me by his name a whole lot of times. In my family, I had been extremely close to my grandfather. Mom's always busy. Dad's always in the office. Sister is at her university. And because of all this, he was the one who I had grown up around. He had literally been the person who I was closest to. So I was the one who had to do this. Though there were Maa and Papa, it still was me who was a part of all this. I was the one who stood there when we took him to the funerary pyre. I was there.
Completely Broken. Didn’t feel like speaking for a few days. Didn't feel like eating for a few days. Hollowed out in the inside. Eventually had to recover myself because my family needed me.
I eventually get back to where I was earlier. But something was always missing. Never really moved on. I give my 12th-grade exams. Because of all the hours that I had put in earlier, still, manage to clear school with a 9 GPA in 12th grade and an athlete of the year award under my belt.
I start with all my competitive exams. Aced all of them. Made it to first merit list with an AIR under 100 rank for the top three colleges of my field.
It was during this time that I meet her. She's everything that anybody could ask for. She's cute. She's sweet. She's caring. And more than anything she connects with me. I don't know how or why. But she did. She expresses her love towards me. I accept. We start dating. She knows all my friends. I know all her friends. After a month of being together, I am told by somebody that she got physical with one of my closest friends. I don't believe this. I had faith in her. Life’s going on like it was, but after a few days, she starts ignoring me. I feel like I’m the only person who’s interested in the relationship. Next thing I know. We've broken up. After everything that happened in these last few months, I'm into depression. And I'm moving into a new city on my own. I moved from my hometown to the city of Mumbai, for studies.
College starts. I haven't really recovered from my depressed state of mind. It becomes really difficult for me to make friends. I become that lonely kid who nobody sits with. Eventually, I adjust and recover with being with myself. I become a complete workaholic. But my studies suffer. Frustration starts building up. I can literally feel it in my bones. I fell sick during the exams and failed in a subject. A new semester starts.
I’m coming back from college one night and I fall down on some stairs. I Break my ankle. Actually, chip off a piece of my bone on the stairs. Middle of nowhere. Somehow drag me back to my hostel. Call up my parents. Too busy to talk to me at the moment.
My roommate takes me to the hospital where I get a cast and I am told to be on the bed for 6 weeks. I get back to my hometown the following day. Spend all that time sitting on my bed, with depression tearing up my insides as I slowly count days till 6 weeks.
I come back to college before the 6 week period ends and I don't know what's being taught. Guess it sucks to be the lonely kid now. However, I start working on a project of my own to keep myself occupied. It's actually going well. I have a fight with my parent's on call one night over something. The following week, I get diagnosed with measles. The doctor sends me back home with another 3 weeks of rest advised. But this time, I carry my project with myself. Keep working, I tell myself. Just so you can keep your mind occupied. Came back earlier than expected but with a horrible state of mind.
The project of mine made history in its field. It wins something that no one had expected it to, At a level that can be compared to awards from Ivy league schools.
I somehow pass the first year in college. The second year starts. Life's getting a bit better. Everything's going great. I'm actually about to complete the semester without any major incidents or accidents.
Somehow or the other, I get a friend request from my first ever crush on Facebook. She starts talking. I have a history with her. Everybody at school thought that we were dating while in reality, nothing was happening. But I thought back then that I loved her. Naturally, we start talking again and it gets great. Sometimes after a few months, I tell her that I love her. She tells me that she never had any sorts of feelings for me. I tell her at the end that I won’t be bothering her again. I stayed true to my word. Never texted her again. Never called. No matter how much I missed her, I didn’t.
My semester exams are starting next morning. I somehow start feeling some pain around my ribs on the right side, the night before the exams. I ignore it. I get a fever overnight. But I try and sleep it off. Woke up with chills and with my body shaking like it was possessed. Popped a few painkillers. Went and gave the exam. Came back. The fever is still there. The pain in the ribs is still there. Next thing I know, I pass out while writing an exam the next day. I somehow get myself to a doctor. He orders some tests. I get them done. Results awaited. I force myself to write all those exams. Last day of my exams, I get my medical tests back. The doctor gives me a very confused look while going through the reports. After a lot of minute examination, he says and I remember “I think there is some water around your lung. Either this is severe pneumonia, or something worse”.
I get back to my hometown the next morning. I'm admitted to the best hospital in town. And finally, after a day or two, it's broken up to me. A rare form of tuberculosis. The water around my lung is constantly increasing and might have to be surgically removed if it doesn't stay in control with medicines. They wait 5 days before finally recommending surgery. During this time, the hospital leaves no stone unturned to extract more and more money from me. We're talking about absolutely unnecessary things here. Things reached that level, that my arms didn't have a single nerve that hadn't been used to take a blood sample in these 5 days.
I practically live on a single lung for a day or two. I get flown to CMC Vellore where the water around my lung is finally drained out surgically. I had almost 1.2 liters of fluid around my right lung that is drained out over a course of 2 days because one day isn't enough. The doctors are surprised that my lung hasn't collapsed even after so much fluid around it. I am told that I'm lucky to survive all this. I'm recommended rest for 6 months. I'm told to keep myself out of any kinds of stress for the next few months. Put On medication for 9 months.
It is around this time that the above-mentioned lady and I stopped talking once and for all. And it was because of all this, it finally kicks in. The demons inside my head come out again. This time it's a proper severe depression. I would cry when I would be in the hospital always wondering “why me?”. No matter what happened around me, something or the other would trigger me. I even thought about taking my life a lot of times, just so all of it could end. The thing about depression is, that everybody says that they are there for you. But when you are trying to sleep at night, in your warm bed, that's when you are the most vulnerable. That's when you realize how alone you are. And how pointless your existence is to everybody.
I come back to college somehow. I focus only on my studies. Being depressed is something that no matter how hard you try, you just can't get rid of. But it does take its toll. I fail the entire year because I didn’t pass one subject out of twelve that I was studying, just by 3 marks. And I’m repeating the entire year again.
A new year starts again. The few friends that I had moved on to the next year. I stay back. I start studying again. My health is really fragile. My mental state of mind is completely gone. Destroyed.
I meet this amazing lady one day, and after a very very long time, I feel better again. She says that she enjoys talking to me. She likes me. Every single time that we talk, it is for a few hours. I'm a little careful this time because I'm afraid of getting hurt again. We grow super close in a relatively small period of time. She shares everything with me. Even I do. It feels nice to be so happy again. For the last few days, she starts ignoring me. I try and talk to her about it. But she doesn't say much. And all this just triggers me further. I tell her that I think I’m in love with her. She tells me that she isn’t in love with me yet. We still talk, although there are differences. We talk in one or two sentences every single day. Most of the messages I send every day get ignored.
Because of all these things that happened, I suffer from a condition known as "Bipolar Disorder". My manic stages were the ones where I achieved more than anybody in this country. My depressed episodes are something that I'm frequenting these days. In fact, I'm writing this because I'm going through one right now. I feel like, after a whole lot of time, I want to be heard. I want somebody to understand how I feel right now, hence, I'm bothering you, the reader.
I honestly have no idea what is going to happen to me now. I'm just sitting in my room. I've got Chester Bennington singing "The Messenger" to me while I write this. I don't know why but I can relate very much to why Chester committed Suicide last year. I'm feeling sleepy now. I go to sleep every evening not knowing or not wanting to wake up again.
P.S. Thank you if you actually read all that. You're a great and amazing person.