#definedgodliness

It was 2 in the night, and I was watching

a reaction video on my phone. It was 2

in the night, so I let my mind go and let

it roam freely wherever it wanted to. It

had been on the leash the entire morning.

It was 2 in the night and I didn't anticipate

what might happen.

I remember distinctly that I was breathing

fine. I was breathing fine, a moment and

the other I was racing along with my

thoughts. It wasn't too late, and my body

started racing around my room too. It was

2 in the night, so I decided to not wake

people up. People, what people? I'm alone.

Sometimes I wish to sleep this feeling away,

but if I sleep now, I'll be caged in my mind

where my sleep demon awaits my arrival,

and I am not ready for that rendezvous.

Hence, I'm awake. Trying to breathe, trying

to sleep, failing at both.

I clearly remember, meeting him, them,

when I briefly closed my eyes. It happens,

not a lot but in the night, when it's 2, that's

the only thing that my brain does. When I see

them, I don't see colors, I don't hear their

voice, I see them and I see myself through

them.

When I look at myself, through them, I see a

sack of blood and flesh, lying on the bed,

Immobile and frozen. I see a pathetic body

not even trying to fight it, using the 21

seconds rule as an escape to not move. It's

almost as if she wants to stay in this state

forever.

When I see myself looking at me, I feel

frantic. I hate myself at that moment, but I

can't, I just can't move. I know if I stood up

right now, I'll fight it. I'll fight with everything,

I'll run away, and I'll be gone and if I lay there

all night, without moving, my judgement

would stare me down and leave me in my

misery.

They are getting closer with each thought

that chokes me. I want to break the barrier

and just hide in the bathroom. Why am I

resisting this? They are here, reaching out

to me and there's nothing more for me to do

I've come to a halt. My body

doesn't want to move, it is

breathing out air, inhaling and

exhaling but moving, no. It is

done, I am done, my brain, my

body, every nerve in my system is

done. I recently watched this

show called “Feel good” in hopes

to feel good myself, and it hit me

like an epiphany, how comedy

often masks the complexities

of nature, we call it mental health.

So, now that I've watched

something that was supposed to

be feel good, and I don't feel good

after it, I think that the feelings that

are resonated by my mind, my body,

will go unnoticed. I don't know how

to feel about it and whom to talk

about it. So, now, my body is in this

state of self loathing with an ounce

of anxiety because I wanted to watch

something that'd make me feel good,

but instead I watched something that

19 million people, waking up in the morning,

going about their lives, from one corner to

another, jumping on one route and reaching

another. Delhi, you beautiful beautiful city,

I hear you carry, within, a soul so old that

you age with time. Oh Delhi, you beautiful

mistake.

19 million people, 573 sq. mi long city,

so many lives, so many dreams. Delhi, you

infuriating mess. Ask anyone they'll have a

story to tell, of a time not known to you, a

time not understood by me but a thousand

people willing to stop and listen along with

their daily cup of tea.

Everyone in here experiences this city in a

way that quite differently do align, and they

are definitely unconnected to mine. Mine

starts with a gate, number 7 it seems,

a chamber block with III written on it and a

floor to see what is unseen. Oh Delhi,

you are so full of mysteries.

On the 7th floor fire exit, you can see the

glory of this city in one place. If you look at

the expanse, I swear you can fly. From the

magnificence that is the Raisina Hill, running

along the Parliament and the tricolored

beauty of India gate. Hold on, wait for a

moment. Absorb the lights, the Grandeur

and move one.

The chilly breeze, often takes you with it to

the never ending work in progress that is

Pragati Maidan which literally translates

to “progress grounds” and to the ruins of

the Old fort, which once was the residence

of the huge empire, resonates the losses

and the gains.

The 7th floor fire exit captures the beauty

that is Delhi, but it also takes you on a

journey to the gems lost in time. If you look

around, you'll see the Jawaharlal Nehru

Stadium, sitting on the high chair, looking

down at the city. If you go a little further,

you'll find the Lotus temple.

Right there, just there, stop and think. Look

beyond the temple and you'll find yourself.

You'll see where you've reached and the

place where you started from. Delhi, you are

the reason for my suffering and the reason

for my contentment.

There are 19 million people in this city and

the 7th floor, Chamber block III is my place

It so happened some years ago,

a story of the past it seems,

the room was wide and huge,

absorbing the echoes of her screams.

Her tale is told in those corridors still,

where she roams, almost as if free,

the ghost of her bolting/shutting doors,

what happened that night, I couldn't foresee.

Loud banging waking up the dead,

calling them to join her quest,

the dead following her in the night,

In that hostel only dead did rest.

I hear her sometimes still,

in what I believe are dreams,

I swear I saw a light on the ceiling,

Like a devout inside the temple and

the lonely outside, I too aimlessly

look for little notes in the books that

I buy. If they could speak, they'd tell

the story of their being. When they

were there without a promise to be

kept perpetually but with one to

alternate consecutively. They whisper

as if calling my name and I swear my

name becomes more powerful, but I

digress. I found a note today, it was

perhaps, addressed to someone I

might never meet or to someone who

barely existed. It read “my dearest, I

want you to have this book in hopes

that you won't be hoping for me. I leave

you with my love for I don't want to

live in a world where you aren't.” It's

absolutely grotesque how one man's

loss is another man's gain. The

whispers came back again, this time

it wasn't my name that they took, it

was hers, it was Maria's. As the

whispers grew louder, my powers

weakened. The whispers turned into

voices. I looked in the mirror, trying to

make sense of things until I realized

it wasn't my reflection staring me down.

My heart jolted 100 beats per minute,

my limbs making sounds never heard

before. A voice, mouthing something

in the background, trying to run away,

I could tell. Weak in my knees, still

standing. With each beat of my heart,

I gained the power once lost and at that

moment, I realized,