The End of Me






Running wild and free, what has been your point of friction? Don’t tell me you haven’t stopped running. It gets tiring and you wish to live in the moment instead of chasing the next. So you stop, stop and stop. You use full stops now instead of commas. You end your sentence with a period instead of an and. You stopped. So tell me what or who was the force that stopped you?

Did I ever tell you how confusing it gets in my head? I try to weave up words like I’m knitting a sweater but I end up making a weird shaped muffler. I write these words like I’m writing a journal. No, I don’t own one. I’m a millennial who writes what comes to her head and posts it on social platforms. It drives me crazy how I blog my life events like stories that never happened. Like the one above talking about friction.

Lights above me bright and killing like stars in a sky. A series of frightening dreams taking over my thoughts. Have you seen your demons? Are you friends with them? What do you talk about? I told them I’m scared of them so they started visiting me everyday to make sure I am not scared of them anymore. I see the blood on my hands and my demons tell me it’s all in my head and I won’t see the blood if I don’t want to. I’m going insane.
I set the house on fire again. I made sure every piece of wood was burnt to ashes and then I rebuilt it with white tiles and white painted woods. I made sure the stained glasses were melted and now I replaced them with transparent windows. I covered the house in white curtains and white daisies in a white vase. White is the color of peace so I started making peace with myself but I began with my surroundings first. Last. And again. Because trying to do it with myself has failed over and over again.

-Neha Radharapu

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