ACID

020

1. ACID

 

Optimism is nothing but a source of fascination to quench human minds and provide nourishment to their thoughts.

 

Pessimism is the destruction of possibility used to craft the feeling of acceptance, while being unable to accept other flows of thought.

 

What so many are unaware of is the two-sided and twisted characteristics that are personalised to every aspect of my fragile soul. A life torn between these two extremes would have meant that every second of every day, I would be catapulted into an insidious bliss of insanity. My ruthless and impulsive tendencies seem to always push away a blessing one hundred times before my mind finally detects it, but by then, I would have once again cut open ageing wounds in people who only wanted me to heal. The feeling of brass nails mercilessly caressing the tenderness of my brain, tugging and scratching at every atom that my body holds, dismissing a charge of red juices which feed the herds of demons who reside deeply in my infested disease of a mind. I must admit, it gets tiresome. Fighting the same battles that I had won yesterday, while simultaneously plunging myself into the darker depths of an unknown and uncertain future. It's a gamble with choices. Luckily, I have been fortunate enough to 'flash' with another soul. A true rarity to someone like me. Our energies fit together like a jigsaw piece, despite my jagged and uneven edges. I often remember to forget someone who did me harm, but forget to remember someone who did love me once. However, this is an exception. Built on a foundation of unwavering trust, hysterical episodes of joy and a humbling sense of compassion, my friendship with this person is worth the cost of anything life can toss towards me. Ironically, this person has become my compass, directing me towards safer mindsets of calm and tranquillity. Codependency is an attribute I never deem to be 'okay' in any rare friendship I share, but with this person, it makes the concept of independence seem foolish and careless. I'll admit, there are times where my mind is trapped in a labyrinth of chaos, but by seeking out all the good this person has done for me, my breathing regulates as I take in breaths of appreciation and hope that for once, may a person finally stay...

 

 

 

3 years ago...

 

He looked as if his name would be Fred. Or maybe Jack. The new comer of our class sat on the end of a wooden bench, near the abnormally large table that was situated at the front of the room. The majority of the class acknowledged his presence for a few lingering seconds, before dismissing him from their attention, apart from one lunatic who weirdly kept his gaze on the poor lad. I decided that this was the moment on my life, where I could do something ‘hero-worthy’ , and quickly stepped up, walked a few metres and sat next to the newbie, giving the impression that I was to introduce myself. Only I wasn’t planning to. I just didn’t want him to develop a hearing impairment from arguably the most annoying person in the room. 

 

‘’ What’s your name?’’ I asked, looking away from Faizaan, who was clearly irritated that I had managed to reach the guy before he did.

‘’ Yusuf’’ was the response I received. Oh. Well he must be lying. He certainly looked like a ‘John’ or maybe a ‘Chris’ . I decided to ignore his possible fib , and instantly provided him with life saving advise. 

‘’ Don’t talk to Faizaan’’ I told Yusuf, ‘’ He’s very annoying.’’

 

Yusuf snorted in amusement. He must have had an itchy nose. Surprisingly, despite my habits of staying reserved and keeping to myself, I found myself conversing with Yusuf with ease. After just a few minutes of speaking to him, I was transfixed by his bubbly personality which had a dangerous proneness to make me want to get to know this random person who had just joined the masjid literally a few minutes ago. It was actually nice to have someone a ground level, who you could talk to without feeling like boundaries are being pushed or an argument may be on the rise. But perhaps it was because I discovered that we both had some common ground; I discovered he attended a school which meant we both had mutual friends who went there, and my talkative side decided to come out of hiding.  He revealed a hilariously humorous side to his personality which was a great first impression and I felt like I had done a good deed , from protecting him from hearing loss- he wouldn’t have been able to acknowledge my own snorts of amusement - and yes I had an itchy nose. Sherry was the only person I classified as a friend in the room, everyone else was just acquaintances, though Yusuf provided the air with an atmosphere of uniqueness that was incomparable to anyone I had ever met. 

 

Fast forward a few months and the number of people I acknowledged as ‘friends’ doubled. Sherry was also open to Yusuf and the three of us were inseparable , talking about everything and nothing and anything in between. All three of us attended different schools , so we made the most of our time at the Masjid to really allow our bond to flourish and grow. 

Needless to say, Yusuf’s humour tied with Sherry’s impulsiveness along with my natural craving for trouble , lead us to very problematic situations, usually ending with at least one of us getting the blame for what the others had done. I usually presented myself as the ‘scape- goat’, wanting the teachers’ brimming annoyance time finally spill onto me, hoping that one day I would simply be kicked out of class. Weird ambition, yes I know, but I never said I was normal. My reasoning for this held a rich history of stubbornness, rebellion and of course , another broken down friendship but that’s a completely different story. The three of us cooked up the ingredients of fun whenever we were in close proximity to one another; from wrestling and grappling to prank calling the police and authorities to the classic ‘Who can shout BOGEYS the loudest?’ We always managed to find a way to keep each other entertained, and they both were the closest I let anyone get to me. I still possessed a mindset of reluctance towards letting anyone get ‘too’ close to me , in fear of the inevitable even of them leaving , or replacing me or having a fight or anything else that could cause cracks in a friendship, but when accompanied by these two people, my brain seemed to dismiss any uncertainties that attempted to meander and linger menacingly in the hidden shadows of my mind. 

 

Selfishness is nothing but a source of satisfaction, used to fill the emptiness of one’s broken trust, filling up the gaping holes with an oozing liquid of self obsession.

 

Gratitude is the ageing wound left behind a horrific battle, leaving one to value what very little he has. 

 

Blood oozed out of my arm, gushing down the sink, where it was swept away by the constant flow of tap water. It had painted deep red mosaics of pain and agony across my delicate skin, and was an endless river of hurt, but couldn’t compare to the invisible poisons injecting my mind. The blood was a thick, gooey mess, and the feeling of it’s warmth running down my forearm was a familiar sensation to me. My skin had split into an open gash on my left arm, a fresh wound, where the surrounding skin flapped ‘open’ , almost attempting to fan the blood from escaping. This was a common practice for me. It may have caused excruciating pain, but a crippling depression is what drives the ones thoughts into actions. My eyes were shut tightly and I yelled in agony, banging my head against the wall until my skin split on my forehead, and there too, blood began leaking out. A few minutes later, sanity returned to me, and I stated emptily at the wound I had etched into my arm....

 

 

3 months had passed since I was pulled out of the masjid. The only source of communication between me and Yusuf was through Snapchat. I felt disconnected, somehow, like the world was flashing in an awe of colour, and I just existed in shades of grey and white. Surely the separation had hurt, it came unexpectedly and proved that my intentions of leaving were ‘too’ effective. I had been torn from company, from whom I refused to admit that I genuinely had cared for, even though subconsciously I admired them both ; I had never allowed myself to open up. I had been too busy focusing on what had been taken away from me rather than what I had been given. It was a constant habit of mine. The acids of my mind continuously scalded my brain, abandoning me in a frenzy of confusion. I’ll admit- it stung to once again become ripped apart from people, but it could not have triggered the depths of my mental suffering that had been haunting me for the past six weeks. I would prefer if I fought my own battles by myself, so I decided not to mention it to anyone. 

 

Four days later; it was unbearable. I remember waking up with a high pitched ringing in my ears, seeing my vision had become altered, everything was blurry and fuzzed out, my body felt as though it was being held down by a ton of weights and my head possessed a similar sensation to that of a burning length of metal being mercilessly pushed into my skull. I was texting Yusuf when I lost it. Without thinking I typed words that had been residing in my subconscious for ages now. 

‘ I want to kill myself’

I tapped the send button.

He saw it.

My breathing froze. He’d think I’m insane for sure. I’m a lunatic. Maniac. 

But any acids that poured out my thoughts were neutralised by the alkali properties in his response. 

‘Don’t, I’d cry my eyes out’

 

My breathing returned to normal, and for once, everything was lifted. Words of appreciation that were directed towards me were a rarity. His response held such significance, considering he was the first person who I had made aware of the disorientation in my mind. Those words, even though were presented on a screen, captured an element of calmness and for once, I forgot about the calamities I was encountering. 

With shaking hands, I decided to start typing. Typing words that crafted an explanation for everything. At fourteen years old, I didn’t think I could trust anyone enough to let them in. But I typed. Then I pressed send. He saw it. He was typing. He pressed send. My mind was in a frozen state of confusion, regret and  gratitude...

 

 

 

Join MovellasFind out what all the buzz is about. Join now to start sharing your creativity and passion
Loading ...