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Catharsis
Catharsis
★★★★★

© Aayushi Tripathi

Inspirational

10 Minutes   22.6K    365


Content Ranking

It hurts. It hurts everywhere. Locked up in my own room I lie down curled up in a ball letting grief resurface over and over again. I am shivering all over replaying the last day and today in my mind. My body shaking unwilling to comply with so much sorrow. There are soundless sobs coming from inside my chest. I had lost all dignity yesterday. I have lost my love today. He told that my memory is no better than a sieve. And that, time will wash away all wounds.The last thing he asked me to do was take care of myself and not be crying over him. "Take care of yourself," he breathed.There was a light, unnatural breeze. My eyes flashed open. The leaves on a small vine maple shuddered with the gentle wind of his passage. I was so good at imagination that I could see it all happening in front of me again. He was gone. With shaky legs, ignoring the fact that my action was useless, I came out of my room on the terrace.I knew I was loosing sanity but I walked forward without thinking. I could not do anything else. I had to keep moving. If I stopped looking for him it was over. Love, life, meaning......over!!!! I walked and walked. Time made no sense as I pushed slowly through the thick undergrowth. It was hours passing, but also only seconds. Maybe it felt like time had frozen because the sky looked the same no matter how much I walked. I started to worry that I was traveling in a circle, a very small circle, but I kept going. I stumbled often, and, as it grew darker and darker, I fell often, too. Finally, I tripped over something that was black now, I had no idea what caught my foot and I stayed down. I rolled onto my side, so that I could breathe, and curled up on the wet bracken. As I lay there, I had a feeling that more time was passing than I realized. I couldn't remember how long it had been since nightfall. Was it always so dark here at night? Surely, as a rule, some little bit of moonlight would filter down through the clouds and find the ground. Not tonight. Tonight the sky was utterly black. Perhaps there was no moon tonight there was a lunar eclipse, a New moon. A new moon. I shivered, though I wasn't cold. It was black for a long time before I heard them calling. Someone was shouting my name. It was muted, muffled by the wetness that surrounded me, but it was definitely my name. I didn't recognize the voice. I thought about answering, but I was dazed, and it took a long time to come to the conclusion that I should answer. By then, the calling had stopped. Sometime later, the rain woke me up. I don't think I'd really fallen asleep; I was just lost in an unthinking stupor, holding with all my strength to the numbness that kept me from realizing what I didn't want to know. The rain bothered me a little. It was cold. I unwrapped my arms from around my legs to cover my face. It was then that I heard the calling again. It was farther away this time, and sometimes it sounded like many voices were calling at once. I tried to breathe deeply. I remembered that I should answer, but I didn't think they would be able to hear me. Would I be able to shout loud enough? The rain continued, and I could feel the water pooling up against my cheek. I was trying to gather the strength to turn my head when I saw the dad. At first it was just a dim glow reflecting off the darkness in the distance. "Yashi." The voice was deep and familiar, but full of recognition. He wasn't calling my name to search, he was acknowledging that I was found. I stared up impossibly high it seemed the face that I could now see above me. I was vaguely aware that he probably only looked so tall because my head was still on the ground. "Are you hurt??" I knew the words meant something, but I could only stare, bewildered. How could the meaning matter at this point? "Why are lying on the ground ? Mom has been calling you for so long." Mom? That struck a chord, and I tried to pay more attention to what he was saying, Mom mattered, if nothing else did. Unexpectedly he held out a hand. I gazed at it, not sure what I was supposed to do. His black eyes appraised me for a second, and then he shrugged. In a quick and supple notion, he pulled me up from the ground and into his arms. I hung there, limp, as he loped swiftly through the stairs. "I've got her!" he called in a booming voice. Dad's voice was the only one that made sense in the chaos, perhaps because my ear was against his chest. "No, I don't think she's hurt," he told someone. "She just keeps sobbing " Was I crying? I bit down on my lip. "Ayushi, muffin, are you all right?" That was one voice I would know anywhere even distorted, as it was now, with worry. "Mom?" My voice sounded strange and small. "I'm right here, baby. What's wrong??" I looked at her. She was the same all unpredictable hair brained beautiful and loving. What must've changed must be me. I thought of a reply. After what seemed like a year, I found my voice and stammered, "I fell asleep and had a bad dream." Dad put me on the bed. I protested that I was wet but he wouldn't listen. Worry was creased upon his face. It seemed like he had aged all of a sudden. Mom was fixing dinner for me in the kitchen. Dad just didn't know what to do with me so he just looked at me. Or was it staring. I didn't know, neither did I care. When mom came out of the kitchen she was carrying a plate decorated with my food. She was wearing an expression of a person who can't do anything to help own self. Not wanting to be responsible for that look I took the plate from her hand and started nibbling at my food. I didn't have to make them suffer for my mistakes. I had to do everything I could to make myself look normal. Mom now had a satisfied smile on her face and dad left my side to continue his bedtime chores. And as for me I tried to eat as much as possible of my dinner then rushed at the first oppurtunity to my room. I felt the smooth tiles of the floor beneath my knees, and then the palms of my hands, and then it was pressed against the skin of my cheek. I hoped that I was fainting, but, to my disappointment, I didn't lose consciousness. The waves of pain that had only lapped at me before now reared high up and washed over my head, pulling me under. I did not resurface. I do not know how but TIME PASSES. EVEN WHEN IT SEEMS IMPOSSIBLE. EVEN when each tick of the second hand aches like the pulse of blood behind a bruise. It passes unevenly, in strange lurches and dragging lulls, but pass it does. Even for me. A girl who had lost all dignity. A girl whose first true love of life had proved to be crook. And lo behold came the dawn. It was morning now I realised I was lying on the floor in the same posture as dad found me last nite. I had to attend school and there were things that my life was worth of. But I couldn't find the will to exert my limbs. Then I remembered mom's expression of last night and that gave me the will. I got up to continue with my life which wasn't much of a life to me now. Even after the pain subsides enough for me to sleep, it isn't over. I always had nightmares now, every night. Not nightmares really, not in the plural, because it was always the same nightmare. You'd think I'd get bored after so many months, grow immune to it. But the dream never failed to horrify me, and only ended when I woke myself with screaming. Dad didn't come in to see what was wrong anymore, to make sure there was no intruder strangling me or something like that he was used to it now. My nightmare probably wouldn't even frighten someone else. Nothing jumped out and screamed, "Boo!" There were no zombies, no ghosts, no psychopaths. There was nothing, really. Only nothing. Just the endless maze of moss-covered trees, so quiet that the silence was an uncomfortable pressure against my eardrums. It was dark, like dusk on a cloudy day, with only enough light to see that there was nothing to see. I hurried through the gloom without a path, always searching, searching, searching, getting more frantic as the time stretched on, trying to move faster, though the speed made me clumsy. Then there would come the point in my dream and I could feel it coming now, but could never seem to wake myself up before it hit then I couldn't remember what it was that I was searching for. When I realized that there was nothing to search for, and nothing to find. That there never had been anything more than just this empty, dreary world, and there never would be anything more for me. Nothing but nothing. That was usually about when the screaming started. I wished I could feel numb again, but I couldn't remember how I'd managed it before. The nightmare was always nagging at my mind and making me think about things that would cause me pain. I didn't want to remember the class. Even as I shuddered away from the images, I felt my eyes fill with tears and the aching begin around the edges of the hole in my chest. I took one hand from the table and wrapped it around my torso to hold it in one piece. It will be as if I'd never existed. The words ran through my head, lacking the perfect clarity of my hallucination last night. They were just words, soundless, like print on a page. Just words, but they ripped the hole wide open, and I stomped on the blook, knowing I should not study while this incapicitated. I curled over, pressing my face against my study table which had originally been my dad's. It was more than 30 years old. It was antique. And I loved it which was the reason I wouldn't let it be replaced by anything. But why I loved it I didn't knew. The analogy suddenly began reminding me of him more and more. And I struggled to keep myself intact. The hole inside was threatening to tear me apart. I changed the direction of my thoughts and began wondering if I would grow as old as the table anyday. The answer which came from inside was saddening. And that helped me. I had rather be sad than miserable dreadful and scared. How could he think I'd ever forget him. My memories would never leave me. He had changed my life. He had changed me. The physical evidence was the most insignificant part of the equation. I was changed, my insides altered almost past the point of recognition. Even my outsides looked differently face sallow, grey except for the purple circles the nightmares had left under my eyes. My eyes were dark enough against my pallid skin that if I were beautiful, and seen from a distance I might even pass for a vampire now. Probably resembled much more to a zombie. But I was not beautiful, and I prefer a zombie......

The zombie which I always dreaded .

The zombie I never wanted to be.....

 

Unburdening.... Revealing dark secrets.... Pruning of potent hurting emotions..... Loneliness..... Darkness... Miserability

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