It’s coming back again. That feeling when he starts to feel helpless. That time when he does nothing else but roll his eyeballs up and down and take deep breaths, trying to guess what it exactly is! Trying to give it some meaning! Trying to find a word for it! But his brain betrays him. That horrific feeling is getting stronger. The sense of urgency it brings on him to find answers to everything is mind numbing. It is something so simple that it turns out to be too complex for immediate comprehension. It reminds him of the words, ‘Worthless’, ‘Stupid’, ‘Aimless’, ‘Purposeless’ and ‘Good for nothing’ just so that he can happily relate to them. Happy not in the sense of the real happy but in the sense of giving in easily. Then it makes him look at the objects around, as if the inanimate things had any answers to begin with. These objects stare back at him dumb-founded, for they too don’t know what has come over their owner. His dog in the corner is walking around in circles trying to find a comfortable spot to settle down. It looks like he is mocking his master’s unsettled state. But being a cute dumb animal, he decides not to take any violent action on him.
Then he tries to put on some rock music, his favorite, but his mental soundtrack is so overpowering, that he throws away the headphones back on to the table. Walk around and round and round and around that he can hear the old lady in the apartment below, begging him to stop thumping on her roof. This feeling was like a parasite and wanted to gain control of its host, so that it can fed on his energy and live till he dies. But he was not letting it grow. He was a positive man and hoped to push it back to its cradle. However, over a period of time, parasites become immune to anti-elements administered to them. So this thing was evolving. Looks like it was strongly determined to grow and stay and kill.
He had trained himself a lot to face this thing. Positivity was like a hard pressing coach with a whistle in its mouth, blowing constantly whenever he ran out of air to complete a lap. It taught him to endure and push forward no matter what. Positivity was aging now and could no more train him. All it had to say one day, was that it had no more energy to motivate him and that he was on his own. That was when the parasite gained in strength and confidence. It lived on his emotions. To fuel the growth, there were many societal and familial catalysts helping it. It attracted help from unknown nooks and corners, pressing him down and growing on his interiors rapidly.
What was this feeling that made him so uncomfortable and uneasy about this world? It made him hate the company of people. It had no motive, objective or a final goal. If it could at least guide him into doing something, well and good, but it wouldn’t risk the host’s life, for its longevity depended on his survival. It had not the slightest mercy, as it could see him suffer. The poor fellow had a lot of youth in him and deserved none of this torture. It did not allow the presence of any worthwhile people in his life make any difference. They would try their best to cheer him up, but that was not of the slightest help. There were moments of bliss and happiness in intervals but that accounted to nothing when compared to the gross. It sometimes gave him thoughts of wrists, knives, windows and leaps. It was its’ way of playing around. It would never complete the formation of thought. Or it would just instill fear in him preventing him from doing anything atrocious. It had complete monopoly to destroy his body.
Gradually, he began to like this thing’s company. He began to like the way it manipulated him. The way it sought help from his enemies and sometimes from close quarters. So much that, one day he decided to slit his coach’s throat in bed. Now, how does one feel when all his obstacles have been eliminated? The feeling was elated! It had gained complete control over him. It made him drink and smoke so much that he looked his 40s in his 20s.
After years spent in coerced friendship with his master…….
To use the little of the self-respect left in his heart and the conscience in his mind, one drunken night, he overpowered his feeling and succeeded in slitting his wrists. He finally had a smile on his face while the blood flowed under the carpet. He won. The feeling won.