Always switch the lights off when you leave the room.
What would they say about me I wonder?
Long gone the happy one
The lucky one
The pretty one
The last few years
I was the sad one
The moody one
The crazy one
Long gone, everyone.
Would did say the good or the bad?
Or would it be lined with scorn or pity?
She lived a life of almosts
Too big for her
Look what happened
She wanted to be a writer
She wanted to change the world, remember?
But she was too broken
To do either
She dreamed big dreams
In the depths of her sorrow
Almost reaching the top of the well
Sometimes I managed to stick out my hand
Sometimes when I tried very hard I got my head out into the glorious wind
But something always dragged me back
She learned to live in the dark wetness of her mind
Blind and lost
Everyday was the same
I tried to change
I tried to change it all
But the trying got too hard
There was only one change left
And finally I tasted success.
It tasted like sleeping pills residue stuck to my tongue.
I wonder if my parents are okay.
I know they blame themselves.
Read the letter mom.
I remembered to turn off the lights after I left the room, this time.
Sneha Pathak writes on Indian Review