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I was stuck in the uncharted territory of my own mind, entangled in uncertainties and everlasting turmoil. I never thought that depression could be this dark, this empty yet so breathtakingly beautiful. It took me a long time to even make sense of all that was happening inside my mind. The voices inside me were conflicting, and my whole personality seemed to have split into thousands of pieces. That’s when they took me to a psychiatrist. My family at last seemed to have noticed me for once, when I was unable to even utter a single word from my mouth. The doctor wrote on blank paper - schizoaffective disorder. I was actually insane but weirdly enough I was comfortable in my insanity and I wore it like a prized possession. The truth is that no one can cure a mind that loves being sick and is addicted to the painful agonies of soul, but it would be an injustice not to salute the efforts that doctor put into me. He believed in the cause of saving young minds to the extent of mania, metaphorically speaking. Flowers can’t grow in the same soil where they got crushed, he said once. Well, that’s not true doctor, they absolutely can but only if they want to. One thing was evident enough that people in general can’t survive without being addicted to something. The doctor was obsessed with saving lives and my soul continuously craved death. I was already rotting inside, my entrails were decomposing just like my mind. But we had to make a deal at last, because neither I nor he was willing to surrender, both pulling in different directions. So the deal was made between life and death, the deal of survival with an ending clause that stated, “death and life are one, two sides of the same coin” so now I live to die and die to live, every second of every single day.
Ophelia Nightingale aka Tajalla ✨
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