Beautiful Chaos

Today, she wakes up in tears. She doesn’t even know why. She just feel that she is overwhelmingly sad. In fact, she has felt that way for weeks. Probably months. Probably years. She lost count.

She experienced nearly drowning once when she was little. She was pulled by current at shore when she was excited trying to stay afloat by herself cause she had just discovered that she was capable of doing that. Her cousin sister saw what happened and pulled her up. She survived.

She still remembers that feeling. That feeling of almost drowning. You can’t grasp for air. Your mouth and nose are filled with water. The inside of your nose burns. Your lungs burn. You try to grasp for anything solid. You can only feel liquid in your hands that you can’t hold on to. You kick your feet around. You try to find something solid to step on. Your eyes burn. You can’t scream. You can only hear the water gushing in your ears.

That is how she feels right now. The difference is there is no water around her. She is just submerged in her own feelings.

Her friends told her it is temporary. They told her it is all in her mind. They told her she is actually okay. They said she just has to control her heart and mind.

When she said she’s tired, a friend told her to “get more sleep and eat well and exercise”.

When she said she feels low, a friend told her that she’s “the strong one”.

When she said she lost weight and she needs new pants, her friend told her to “wear belts”.

When she said she talked to doctor about it, her friend said “but you’re okay, right?”

So she stopped telling them. It is not their fault. Humans like to be listened to. And it takes a great deal of skills to really listen. She caught herself doing that to her friends too, sometimes. And maybe she notices much less than she actually really do that to her friends.

So she chose the easy way. She fakes smiles. She hangs out to laugh. She says she is okay every time people ask. She makes jokes when people ask why she looks so thin now.

She is afraid of herself. Or the demons in her mind. She can’t really distinguish. It is scary, what they say when she’s counting her pills. It is frightening, what they whisper when she’s riding her motorbike or driving.

So she chooses to cry. Because tears are suppose to release some hormones that calm her down. And because the sobs drown the voices of the demons, sometimes. And because she remember Allah every time tears roll down her cheeks.

She gets out of bed. She wipes tears off her cheeks. “I must go to work”, she tells herself. She looks in the mirror. She pats her cheeks. She smiles at her reflection. The tears have come out again.

“Five more minutes”, she said. “I’ll sleep for five more minutes and it’ll go away.” She pats her cheeks again.

She goes back to bed. As she drifts to sleep, she hopes she is just lazy. She hopes that if laziness can kill, it will do that to her in her sleep. And she lost consciousness.

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