Openhearted letter

Sunday, May 08, 2011


Not mean to sound ungrateful or offend with this. I guess, it's time to have a one to one chat. This way, we can see where I'm going wrong, leading you and where you're misguiding me.

I've seen a lot for an average 19 year old and you'll accept that. Probably, everyone does so and it's just a matter of expressing it. Being endowed with a talent to write and express myself I'm able to show and reveal all what I've been through- highs and lows etc but the point being that I may not be the only one but still I've had my fair share and you'll accept it. Not just myself but generally, life as a whole has not been too bad to me if I compare myself to someone else. As a friend of mine always says, look at people who've disabilities and then compare your life with them. You'll find your miseries gone. Fine, I stop, take a look around. I see misery, loneliness, pain and whole lot of drudgery and I also see where you've placed me in the Pyramid. I'm glad and at some level thankful (knowing me, I just wouldn't show it). All this introspection probably happens a week before exams when you're fucked beyond recognition but it's worth it, believe you me. I've seen this calm and composure is rare for someone. To sit and think and immediately put it down together. Rare. Most of the times, I end up deleting/throwing/tearing up stuff I write, in moments like these, next morning when I'm zonked and recollect the past night.

I'm digressing but that's the beauty of this kind of state of mind. Like I said, these occasions are rare and I'd like to make better use of them in future than to either wear them off with just reading a book or playing some music to "lighten" up the mind.

At this hour, I ought to have done David Hume and be placed in my bed, trying to heal urticaria, a recent addition in my "life". There is no possible cause for chronic urticaria and no cure as well. You got to give it time. From 6 weeks to 1o years to entire life. It depends on the irritant and how quickly you're able to identify it. For a rash, urticaria is a very fancy name. It does something to know you have favourite words and stuff? Yeah, 'urticaria' could've been mine had I not been affected by it. That too, not at any other time but 7 weeks before my exams. You like to throw things at me? I should thank you perhaps, you've blessed me with a medical disorder that I got to live with. Going through old snaps added to my depression (which is another thing urticaria leads to, yes). I was prettier without the rash over my face, swelling near my eyes and horrible skin discolour that makes my feet look like dog poop. You know, right, I didn't give a damn about my rash for a month, until my mother saw it and I realized that it is Indeed fucked up. Yeah, like that. When you see yourself look like a swollen, rash ridden corpse in the mirror you'll do what I'm doing. Crib, cry, throw a tantrum at all possible hours, cry some more and not study whatsoever because you've a rash and you're under sedatives that do nothing to make you better. I'm merely recollecting memories from last two/three weeks when I've done nothing but weep day-night just looking at my rash.

You didn't think that prevailing conditions were painful enough to add this? Don't make me say it, you know exactly what I'm saying over here. Just because there is a silent sufferer who's learnt to make peace with life in a way like I did, you'll try tactics like these to bother me.

From sickness to failure as a kid to pick up arithmetic to watching your family members and best friend die right infront of your eyes, to coping up with health issues and the regular teenage heartaches, you didn't think all that was enough? Ofcourse, it wasn't. Probably, urticaria isn't, either. I'm waiting for you to unpack your shit on my life and to the people who surround me, because you apparently hate me. I don't joke, only someone who hates you can possibly think about you like this. No one in their right mind would go ahead and shove such crap up anyone's ass.

You think, I've the ability to take. No, I don't. I may appear all sturdy and brave and ready to take on shit that you throw but deep within I'm frail, timid and helpless. I've no option but to cope and live. For it is more like a curse to live than to fight it. There was a time, before you signed off the last time with urticaria, when I'd never ever think about any of this. Never have a single thought of giving up this ordeal come infront of me. This time it's different. My ability to fight you and continue this war has been shaken. This groundbreaking crap that you've unloaded in my path has really fucked my happiness. The zest to fight it died somewhere with the stink of the rash and I'm a mere physical entity left. You can see it- my swollen face, the rash all over the exposed body parts (and that which you can't see too). Every place has been affected. I've a feeling I'm losing my eye sight too because I'm finding it very hard to focus while writing notes.

Oh, exams. Yes, I was coming to that. In less than a fortnight, I've gotten atleast two dozen injections, three different kind of medicines which includes steroids and three different doctors. One tells my mother to fetch port wine for her. Other tells me to chill and detox for three whole days. Nothing's working out. I've read so much about it on the internet that I could really write and ace an exam on urticaria.

Call it teenage angst or well expected call, I've had enough of you. Really. You've fucked my happiness from every possible side and made me question whether all this is really karma or if I'm living a nightmare in a true sense.

My appeal to you in this letter is merely this much, I'd like to end this crap between us. I'm ready to do what it takes. Act kind to you? Be patient to myself? Ignore the rash all over the arms, neck, shoulder, face and nape while I forge an attempt to write my essay on Socrates.

Other alternative being you end this for me. Completely. Death is the final liberation, or so said Indian Philosophy (the perks of being an undergraduate philosophy student). Let's meet death together. Not being suicidal. I've modes for that. If this is the only option then I'm ready to take the plunge and make afterlife or the pleasant thoughts of it my home.

Someone whom you've fucked enough without protection.

Ps- if you really have to fix things, let's take it step by step. Urticaria has made each day living hell and night- a bad dream. Just get a life.

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