‘It’s rather weary to find oneself in a constant state of self-loathing. Dreary, I must say. ‘ She can hear herself blitzing through the conversations. She cannot let the others ask her a question. Or take a notice of what she is saying. This must happen fast. Conversations must end quickly. The things she does to keep herself sane.
It’s yet the second week since she has been dealing with her depression episode. Up until then she has been one jolly manic for long. Maybe, for so long she forgot how her highs are doomed to get lower. Perhaps lower she had ever seen before. And yet, here she is amidst the random chaos where she’s supposed to act like a commoner. She scolded herself for being so harsh, but she cannot help herself except to think how the conversations are so simple more than she would like them to be.
It’s the matter of pain that keeps her awake. Her pain is the constant companion. Her guardian angel that keeps her alive time and time again. In the joyous manic days, pain fools her by hiding itself. But she knows it always assume the place of a overshadowing cloud at the edge. Yet, she is happy. She feels capable of changing the world. Herself. Everything. All of a sudden her wonders change her into becoming a wonder woman. She chuckled for herself. ‘What is so funny?’, said her company in mere curiosity of her unbecoming laughter. ‘It’s just the wonders of life…in my head.’ He grinned quietly out of propriety not kindness nor understanding.
Manic is the her secret power to prowess. All the gratitude she gets for her attempt of existence. She sure seems happy. Smiling all the time. Doing things rather quickly. It is her unattended self that keeps going. But then, there goes the doom of existence. The guilt of breathing the same air like the ton. The eerie of living. And the past few weeks, her two polaroids of moods have been so mixed up. If anyone had noticed, she has been glitching like a system that has failed.
She pinched herself to bring herself back to the now. The now looks damned.
‘What’s it about myself I hate so much? Isn’t it okay to be less of a human from time to time? Why is it so odd to be cared for? How can you be overwhelmed for being given an attention? How can you be tantalized even traumatized by a thought of someone being in your life? Isn’t this the unwritten rule of society?’
‘Does it really matter to be part of a society? Is it really a matter of life and death to do these things? One day I can be there. The next I can’t be sure. The next I am not even sure if I am willing to see the sun. Somedays, the brightness of my days, my life is okay. But the other my horizon cannot go beyond the rims of my blanket. How must one exist when there is a constant dread in oneself? ‘
She excused herself before she said all the nonsense in her head. She nudged herself to take a respite from the noise, the people and perhaps herself. Would she ever take a break from herself though?
Rants of the Absurdist
Unabridged Manuscripts 
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