Words Aren’t Enough to Express Themselves


I have been feeling a lot less lately. It’s like, I have already felt everything possible I could have ever imagined so all the instances and the feelings dwelling inside me have left me numb. I’m not even sure if numb as a word is sufficient to describe the death of an emotional turmoil inside me.

To begin with, every word has its meaning. There is a purpose behind every word, how it is arranged in a sentence or rather in what circumstances it is being used. But sometimes, I feel words fall short to justify themselves.

Like sometimes, I get this strong feeling. A gut feeling of knowing that things are going down one more time. The pain of building a card house and waiting for that one card to slip from your hand and mess it up for you. It is such a strong feeling that keeps me thinking for a span of say about 30-40 secs in a stretch. Less than a minute but enough time to kill me​ in my mind. My reality is perceptible, as I sit in the corner of my room. My expressions are obscure and even the person sitting next to me would not be able to read what I am enduring. Whereas my mind is a mess; a not so beautiful mess. In that short period of time, my mind has wandered everywhere. The thought of every possible instance that left me there comes in a flashback. The still images disturb me so much that makes me scream. I scream till I feel the pressure pumping in my veins until it’s cut open to ease the pain. I have turned my room upside down. The curtains of my room are burning in flames, lit by the fire inside me. I have hurt every individual and shattered every object, that comes on my way. The rage is so furious and evil that I have overcome the fear of death. I can differentiate no more. What is more frightening, the fear of death or conquering it? I have thought of a million ways to end my life. Sometimes the images are so daunting, I wake up to reality. It’s much more calm, but the mind is struggling to slow down and emulate the state of my body.
This is when I ask you, “am I going crazy?”. Then you tell me, it was just my frustration. How can a word justify the riot inside me? You haven’t even seen the insanity inside my head and you label those feelings in one word.

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