Now more than ever, it's essential to foster open conversations about mental health and breaking the stigma. A few lines I penned down:
Darkness presses in from every side,
I crawl through a narrowing tunnel,
The walls inch closer, hour by hour,
Each breath a battle, each moment a weight.
But there’s nowhere to go,
The urge to escape grips hard,
Pulling at me, begging to flee—
But all I can do is twitch, fidget,
Small rebellions against a feeling that grows.
Who’s coming now?
Not another face telling stories of gods or ghosts,
No more rituals or lectures on order,
On how to scrub your life clean, make it neat.
No more promises from gurus who know it all.
Not another boss, with threats that loom.
How did it begin? A flicker, a spark of doubt—
Anxiety’s tiny pulse, swelling into something vast,
It spun a world with me at its core,
And soon, everything circled around,
Until I could see nothing else.
But now—
A glimpse of light, faint but real.
Someone who understands,
Who sees the tangled mess, the weight I carry,
A hand reaches down, steady, true—
And I think, maybe I can grasp it,
Hold on, and let it pull me from this dream,
Back to a place where I can fade into the background,
Where life feels real again,
And I am just one among many,
Worrying about the normal things,
Not drowning, but finding my way up.
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