Mental Illness.

[A really lengthy post]

People assume you aren’t sick
unless they see the sickness on your skin,
like scars forming a map of all the ways you’re hurting.
My heart is a prison of “Have you tried?”s.
Have you tried exercising? Have you tried eating better?
Have you tried not being sad, not being sick?
Have you tried being more like me?
Have you tried shutting up?

Yes, I have tried.

Yes, I am still trying.

And yes, I am still sick.

Sometimes monsters are invisible, and
sometimes demons attack you from the inside.
Just because you cannot see the claws and the teeth does not mean they aren’t ripping through me.
Pain does not need to be seen to be felt.

Telling me there is no problem
won’t solve the problem.

This is not how miracles are born.

This is not how sickness works.

I understand how it feels to look calm in the outside but you’re deeply broken in the inside.

I understand how it feels when you’re being frank to people; telling about you’re facing a mental illness – where you have to fought valiantly everyday with the deep darkest thoughts in your brain and how did people react? They laugh and tell me to “fuck off because you don’t look sick” or “you don’t look mentally disabled”.

I understand how it feels to fight with our societies stigma that mental illness is a taboo – as we are unacceptable in society.

I understand how it feels when you have to battle with sudden suicide and self harm plan in your head.

I understand all those shit

I have to battle with my depression and anxiety; everyfuckingtime.

It is a hard cycle to conquer. The body is working against you. And because of this, you feel even more despair. Which only amplifies the imbalance. It takes uncommon strength to live with these things. But I have seen that strength over and over again.

And yet, trust me, there are some people who don’t believe this.

To my fellow friend who is in the same journey as me – to battle with our mental illness – you’re not alone ; keep fighting and let not your mental illness define you ❤


Breathe. This will pass.


You’re going to be okay.

Breathe and remember that you’ve been in this place before.

You’ve been this uncomfortable and anxious and scared, and you’ve survived.

Breathe and know that you can survive this too. These feelings can’t break you.

They’re painful and debilitating, but you can sit with them and eventually, they will pass. Maybe not immediately, but sometime soon, they are going to fade and when they do, you’ll look back at this moment and laugh for having doubted your resilience.

I know it feels unbearable right now, but keep breathing, again and again.

This will pass.

I promise it will pass.

I’m sorry.

Dear friend,

You were beautiful. Not in the old-fashioned, high cheekbones, heart-shaped face, slender figure, soft and flowing hair sort of way. No. You were beautiful in your own quirky, kind-hearted, sweet way. You always smiled at me from across the hallway and gave that wave that no one else could ever imitate. You were always happy and I couldn’t ever figure out why. You said hello to everyone and spoke to them as if they were important to you. You smiled, no matter what.

But you also had that other side that you hid so well. You were good at it. Hiding that side, I mean. You’d slip up sometimes. I’d notice it always. But I never confronted you about it. I always thought to myself, “She’s strong enough to deal with it”. I realised too late that you weren’t.

I know it’s too late but I need you to know that I’m sorry. And that I never wanted this to happen. I didn’t know that you were hurting so bad. I thought that this was normal. I fucked up, I know.

But now you’re gone. And nothing I say can bring you back. Maybe I was one of the reasons why. Maybe I was what started it. Or maybe I was what pushed you over the edge.

I like to give myself a false sense of comfort and think, “There were no signs”. I know that if I had looked closely, I would have seen the sadness you hid so well. I’m sorry I didn’t look. I’m sorry I didn’t realise. I’m sorry I fucked up so badly.

I know nothing I say will bring you back but I just wanted you to know how fucking sorry I am. I killed you. I killed your spirit. I killed your will. I killed your soul.

And I’m sorry.

Suicide prevention helpline number: +91 22 2556 3291

Don’t hesitate to call. Nobody deserves to die like this.

About journals and journeys​.

When I was a child, I used to try to keep a journal. I would see all these movies and TV shows (read: Lol and The vampire diaries) where the actors used to fill in their journal everyday and I think to myself ‘I want that’. I want to be able to express myself this freely.

You see, being a introvert meant keeping most of my thoughts to myself and listening to other people more than talking to them. And honestly, after a while, I started hating it. I hated the fact that people thought I didn’t have an opinion, that they didn’t care about my feelings, that they hurt me as if I didn’t matter. And I hated myself for not speaking up. I needed an outlet. And so I started writing. But no, I didn’t make a fancy journal like I wanted to. I wrote my feelings on pieces of papers and hid them. I didn’t want my family to see them. They wouldn’t understand. I didn’t want myself to reread them. It would make me feel pathetic. So I hid them all and never saw them again.

Until recently, when I was cleaning my cupboard. I reread them all. I didn’t feel​ pathetic like I thought I would. I felt proud. I felt happy. I felt strong. I felt lots of things. But not pathetic. I laughed when I read what I had written. Why? Because I grew up to be way differently then I wrote I would​, I have better friends, I don’t hate those people anymore and most importantly, I am happy. I am happy with my introverted self and my friends understand me, I have learnt to stand up for myself and for what​ I believe in and I don’t care about what other people say anymore.

Time and circumstances change you. If you hate yourself, your job, your teachers, your situations or anything else; it’s okay. It gonna pass eventually. You can’t and you won’t hate it forever. Your circumstances make you stronger and time heals you. But it’s like a journey. A journey that is full of potholes and blocked roads. But honestly, it’s a journey you have to be willing to take. You cannot just expect time to heal you. You have to facilitate it to heal you by taking the first step. YOU have to start this journey. YOU have to decide the route. YOU have to select your companions. YOU have to carry your luggage.

YOUR journey is all about YOU.

So, make sure you give it your all. You deserve it and you are worth it.

An open letter to teenagers.

Dear fellow teenagers,

It’s scary that so many of us become shy, anxious, extremely emotional and depressed as we grow up. All the social pressure, stress and hormonal changes builds up into this strong and unstable feeling in our throats, that feeling that chains us up as we struggle to break free, that feeling where we can’t see beauty in ourself anymore, that feeling when you spill the contents of the puzzle box.

Believe me when I say; deep down, it’s fine that we don’t want to try anymore. Because let’s be honest; what’s the use of breaking free when we are going to be imprisoned, again and again, over and over again. But life doesn’t end with one person feeling alone or scared or depressed. Unfortunately, so many people believe that it does. And sadly, some people perish because of it.

So, pick up the puzzle pieces that you dropped. Spend your time putting the pieces together. Stop running around with it safely tucked away inside the box. Believe me, you will see the big picture when the day comes. Believe me, it will be beautiful. It will be all you ever asked for and more. It will make you inherently happy and satisfied. 

You are not worthless. You are not a monster when negativity hits you like a brick. You are not ugly. You are not useless. You are not any of the things people say that you are. Diamonds are under pressure before they are beautiful, gold has to go into a furnace before it shines. Remember, beauty is not something that you see or touch. It is the feeling when you find the puzzle pieces fitting together. There is beauty in everything and everyone.

So look closely.


A teenager.