That feeling of suffocation could not be explained in words. That’s what I felt suddenly that day. Standing in the crowd waiting for something, I had nothing to do. I looked around and saw many familiar faces. I knew mostly all of them. Every one of them was busy with each other. ‘Groups’ that’s how they all were standing, in groups. I looked around wanting to see someone looking at me, I did not find anyone. No health problems, yet I suddenly choked. I couldn’t breathe properly. No reason, yet I was sad. I walked away from the crowd to my little space of loneliness. Standing there I started staring at the things around, lost in the light of my thoughts, looking at nothing. Thousands of thoughts resurfaced my mind. I was slowly giving up to despair. I gave into sadness. That was the moment when I felt desperation, the desperation of getting hugged by someone and being asked, “Hey! here you are, I was looking for you”.
The white canvas of my feelings was being painted all black. Black is a pretty intriguing colour. Somehow one can mix all the white in black and still won’t reach above grey. That’s what sadness is, the feeling of ‘grey’. That’s how my feelings were right at that moment. My white canvas was getting painted in black and all I had was more random thoughts to make it darker and darker. I ran away. Away from everyone. Wondering how no one can see what I feel on the inside, wondering how I am hiding things inside of me even though I am tired of holding them in, wondering how I see beauty in everything but me. That, how pain is the only thing that gives me the sensation of being alive because other feelings are long gone. That slowly how I am getting used to being sad. Being sad thinking this black paint won’t ever lighten up no matter how hard I try.
Thinking that no one notices when I am absent and that for once someone notices me standing alone and come and stand next to me even if they don’t say a word. We all want someone and we want that “someone” to want us as well, and it’s not that hard. But somehow it is so tough that I have never experienced it. I wonder how good it feels to know that you are enough for someone, even for a single person. That for once someone will stop you from getting low. That for once someone will hold that brush of sadness which is painting your canvas black and let the paint rest. You know why because till the time the colour black is wet, it can only be changed to grey, but as soon as it dries up, you can paint a beautiful masterpiece with white on it. And the best part, that white colour will pop the brightest. That’s what I wish. That someone would paint my soul back to happy above all the sadness inside and would make it shine the brightest.