Choler

(in medieval science and medicine) one of the four bodily humors, identified with bile, believed to be associated with a peevish or irascible temperament.

 

You’re making me so angry these days. I can’t even type without feeling the surge of rage build up within me, barely contained and hidden. I hate how selfish you have become. I hate how much you’ve started using this independent phase of yours as an excuse to do as you please. I hate the secrecy and the lies. I hate not knowing the truth and I hate knowing the truth too, especially when it comes from somebody else. I despise the way you’ve started speaking to me, because I can’t tell the truth from the lies anymore. I always could you know, and now I’m trying so hard not to see the lies. I’m working so hard to see the normalcy in this abnormal situation. I hate this two-faced behavior. This is not healthy, this is not right and this is not fair. 

I’m not used to cloaks and daggers. I am not used to shutting up. I am not used to people saying one thing and doing the very opposite and then not even bothering to justify it. I am not used to not knowing. I am not okay with finding out with the rest of the world because it makes me feel sidelined, betrayed and used. 

I know if I act on this we’re going to have problems. I know if I don’t keep my mouth shut we’re going for a strike. I know if I don’t stop caring we’re going to have to reevaluate everything. Have you ever had to rewire your entire conscience? Have you ever had to bite back basic instinct and carry on living this new persona? I doubt you have. I doubt you would. I do believe that on your plane you do not think it is a big deal. I do believe that you will play this off as an overreaction with me over-thinking everything. I know it will reflect rather highly on the “over-emotional, over-dramatic” scale and I will close my eyes and take it. 

 I will never say this out loud. I will never repeat these sentences in public. I will never disapprove of the things you say and the way you have decided to live your life. I will never use anything you have said to me against you. I will never not defend you to the hilt. I will never not laugh at your anecdotes. I will never not help you out when you need it. I will never not counsel you to the best of my ability. And I will do this knowing that I can get hurt in the process. I will do this knowing that while I trust you, you will never trust me the same way. 

Claustrophobic

It is happening again. I knew it would, I guess I just didn’t expect it to happen so fast, or so soon. The walls are closing in on me. I keep joking about running away and hiding or hibernating and not responding. Its becoming an ironic sort of joke. Having tasted the sweet, sweet nectar of complete relaxation and bliss; I now keep wanting more. 

I walked away from my responsibilities 2 weeks ago. I left everything behind, stagnant and frozen in time. Work, studies, social commitments were all put on hold and replaced with the sun, sea and nature. I slept, swam, hiked, biked to my hearts content. No regrets. 

I know I take on too much. It is a problem that I have always been aware of but have been incapable of admitting. I know other people see it but it has become a defense mechanism to “handle it” every time. 

Being back, and battling everything I’ve realized what I felt free from. From feeling ‘overwhelmed’. It is almost like I was drowning and I hadn’t even realized it. Those days I shut everything off and staying inside alone kept me sane through everything that was (and is) going on outside. My subconscious is remarkably responsible. 

But now, I’m scared and I’m worried. I don’t know if I can manage everything. I have to pick and choose but I cannot say no either. Stuck between a rock and a hardplace. I don’t know what to do. I just know that I can’t let myself slide down the sharp end of the cliff again. I need to have a firm grip this time around. I just feel a little out of control. Not sure whether to play the “yes-man” route to see where things go or to pull the reigns back tightly. 

I can feel the walls closing around me, cutting off my oxygen. I can do this. No, no I can’t. Yes I can. My chest is constricted, there is a lump in my throat and I just want to go away already. 

This is the least articulate I have ever been. And the most helpless. Completely at a loss. 

Secrets

I’ve seen things happen before and the patterns that dictate reoccurrence cause my heart rate to race and mind to work in overdrive. 

I had a friend a few years ago, who I knew through family. She was really nice, and we hit it off talking when we could or meeting at mutual workshops. I got to know her a lot better once we started talking on the phone, and I guess you could say we were close. She’d call me up at night, upset and depressed because she was dealing with emotional abuse and pressure at home. I was too young then, a mere 16, and I did what I could to get her to be positive and to talk to a counselor. 

A few weeks later when I met her, she had started hedging her conversations. I grew worried and concerned and one night I confronted her about her behavior. My concerns were not unwarranted as she admitted to cutting herself. I saw the scars old and ragged over the upper wrist and on the side of her hip. She would tug down the sleeves and give me a wry sort of smile. I cried and talked to her as much as I could. I was promised to secrecy and she promised to stop. 

We continued to lose touch, a factor that worried me day after day. She was avoiding me, and I knew she was. One day I went over, for a family dinner and as per usual stormed into her room. She wasn’t in there, but I could hear her in the bathroom. After the scrambling and “I’ll be right out” was over and done with, she begrudgingly came out, with a hazy expression and a nervous smile. 

I knew I shouldn’t have but I pushed past her into the bathroom. The tubelight only worsened the harshness of the situation. She ran to the dustbin and pulled out her secret.

A small twist of heroin. 

She saw the look on my face, my worst fears confirmed. I slumped down, onto the floor speechless as she tried to justify the usage. 

“It makes me feel so much better love, trust me I’m really very careful with it. I know what I’m doing. Don’t worry yaar, its nothing, just helps me cope for now. I’m so much happier these days na! Plus, I promise I won’t shoot it up okay? I’m not dependent on it! You can’t tell anyone okay, promise me!” 

I walked out of her room. And went and sat downstairs. I didn’t know what to do or who to talk to. I got in touch with her counselor and left him some very heavy hints, he promised to look into it. I had no proof, and I couldn’t figure out how to tell her parents. 

She passed away 3 weeks and 4 days after her 18th birthday. 
Causes unknown was the official story. 

I was too late with the real one.