I’ve learnt to wear my hurts like a singlet; I keep them close and cover them with the colorful robes of cheerfulness.
I’ve come to know that life is a bag of beans and luck is a fickle thing you can’t live your life counting on. If it comes, it comes. If not, make your own luck.
I’ve faced frustration and depression in the deep of the night; I know the names of my many demons by heart, we dine and merry at dawn and turn into bitter enemies at dusk.
I’ve seen death. I felt him hanging over my shoulder. I see him bidding his time, waiting for the day I finally snap under the force of the lemons life keeps throwing at me. I tried making lemonades but i can never get it right. One day he’s here; days when I think about the fastest way out. Drugs? A stroll into heavy traffic? A leap? Or the slash of a razor?
Other days he’s nowhere to be found, leaving me at the mercy of my demons, reeling from blows they land in me.
Today I’ll grab him, I’ll hold his hands as I ignore that overhead bridge. I’ll tell him to lead me home as I step into traffic with my eyes closed. I’ll beg him to show me peace that has been evading me all my life.