There is a world inside my head. A world of my making, a world catering to my happiness. Every night when I close my eyes, I go there.
In that world, I am exactly who I want to be. I have everything I need, and everything I want. In that world I meet people, all the people I have ever lost. I go up to them and talk to them – tell them everything that is bothering me. I vent out, until I find the peace that is so elusive in this real world. I see people whose names I have long since forgotten. I ask how they are doing, I tell them all that’s happening in my life.
I go back to places I have not gone back in years. Home. My school. Every time I close my eyes, I can almost trace all the places I have always loved. I can visualize walking through those roads, past my favorite restaurants and haunts.
In my world, I go back to my regrets. I go in search of making different choices, hoping may be then the regret will wash away. Sometimes I go in search of possibilities, to walk through the ‘what ifs’ of life. Sometimes I go looking for people I have yet to meet. I go looking for ghosts, whose voices don’t reach my reality. In that world, I am not limited, helpless.
Some days I go there when the reality is too much to bear. When losses cling to my bones and weigh down my soul, I go in search of oblivion. When I am sleeping, hours pass away. Sadness can’t scratch me. This world of mine becomes a bubble, protecting me from my own demons. Sometimes I feel that if I stay there long enough, may be sadness will stop knocking at my door.
But I have come to know that’s a slippery slope. Once I start escaping there, I may never come back to this reality. There are people on this side of who needs me. So I think of them and wake up. Every morning. I fight the urge to crawl into bed and stay there. I fight the urge to stare into the distance and lose myself to my thoughts. I fight the urge to close my eyes and keep sleeping.
You would think, fighting everyday would make me strong. But the truth is this daily fight weakens my resolve. Some days I even lose the fight. Those days I push away everything and give myself into the world inside my head. The wonderful world where I don’t have to fight. Some days I dread coming back to reality. Because coming back always hurt more than the escape.
The first time someone I loved said to me that I have depression, I almost laughed. All this while, I thought I went into my own world to find happiness. Who would have ever guessed, that the very pursuit of happiness would turn out to be a symptom of all that is wrong with me?
Amar Shobdo 