Everyone is probably going through something they can’t share with anyone; either depression, anxiety, or thoughts of self-harm. It is most common however in teenagers and young adults. I recently came to know of the Heart Project which encourages anyone who has ever gone through any of these; self-harmed, dealt with bulimia, anorexia, insomnia, anxiety, depression, anger issues, suicidal thoughts to say it out by drawing a heart on your body; it can be anywhere. On the neck, chest, forehead, cheek, ankle, wrist, anywhere.

I got inspiration to write this poem from seeing my Instagram feed showing pictures of hearts and brave hearts standing up and showing the world their scars and being able to admit that they had suffered and were on the road to recovery. Not everyone has the guts to own up and stand tall and admit they have problems, I just wish there was a way to be an open arm, to offer a hug to those suffering and tell them everything will be okay and not to worry and do something drastic and life-altering. The poem goes like this:

Standing in this big hall, my eyes glance across the room at the brightly coloured decorations and the balloons hanging on the walls, and everywhere else. On my left a table holds the refreshments, how I needed to be refreshed. Not in that way but in a reborn way, reincarnation and getting a whole new lease on life. Because right now, this life thing was winning in this duel between me and it.

Hanging. [I would need a rope for that, a strong one at that. I googled it last night and found out many suicides by hanging were not successful; I also learnt how to make a tight noose. I wouldn’t want to drop down from the ceiling and not drop dead. I could never face my mother after that. How would I look her in the eyes, and explain to her why I wanted to do it? Tell her that all this time I have been smiling and laughing and saying I was fine, but that it was all a lie, that in actual fact my inner being was in turmoil, a deep-edged pain I couldn’t get rid of and that I felt an exit out of this world was what I wanted, what I needed actually.]

I never wanted to come here, I hate outings and I am not particularly fond of school dances because what would I do? Dance? I couldn’t even make a two-step. I did not have friends to goof off with and do funny facial gestures to guise the fact that we couldn’t dance. My mum likes calling me a wallflower, which is a total misconstruction because wallflowers are visible. I wasn’t.

Right now standing by the refreshment table and having my fourth glass of this oddly tasting fruit punch, I look at everyone and nod my head at the thought that this was my final goodbye to them, they didn’t know me and most probably didn’t even know I existed but I raised a glass and drowned my sorrows as I said a silent goodbye to this community of happy dancing students.

Drowning. [I could never do that, what if my little brother was the one who discovered my body? I could never live with myself knowing I had destroyed his image of me and ruined his whole childhood and most probably life, of course I wouldn’t be alive but no, drowning was not an option.]

I don’t know why I came here, I hate being away from my room, from my journal which is spewing with unshed tears and unsaid words that will probably be read at my wake, which will be attended by people who never knew me and never understood me.

I glance at the speakers, filling the room with popular dance music and hypnotizing the crowd with a sense of euphoria and an urge to move their bodies. I walked over to the dance floor and thought that a first and final dance was in order, I would dance for the fifteen miserable years of fake smiles and inner pain and I would dance for finally being at peace.

I don’t know what came over me but as I moved my body I felt stares from unwelcome onlookers, I did not want a crowd and as they cheered me on I realized I could be remembered as the dancer and I danced more. Shifted that way and shimmied that other way. I then had a strange thought that maybe suicide wasn’t the answer, maybe I could dance my way out of this deep dark hole I was in…I shimmied on and by the end of the night I had a whole group of admirers and potential friends.

I had a way out, and it wasn’t a way out of this earth but a way back in, a reincarnation of sorts.

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