This feeling that I have occasionally what can it be called? Madness? Savagery? Sadism? May be all of these. I lose control over myself or over my actions. I become a person heading towards nothingness except destruction. I fail to express my feelings in words. I scream, the same guttural sound made by an ape when it got wounded. Running away from civilization feels like a blessing. I dream of breaking all relationships, breaking every barrier and taking a flight without the thought of landing anywhere.
It is like a bad dream full of violent images. Like an enraged bull I keep running, destroying what I have built lovingly. Once the rage is spent, once the bull has hit the target, calmness engulfs. Amidst a pile of destroyed happiness and happy moments I sit, exhausted. My mind is blank. I am spent. I don’t know what’s next. I don’t have any answer, may be because I know the answers.
Is there a reason behind why I behaved the way I behaved? May be. But today I don’t even want to know the reason. All I am concerned about is the actions and the aftermath. Why do I hurt those who care for me the most? Is it because I know that they care? My wife, my parents—they are patient with me and often concerned about me. But still during those mad moments something seizes me and I readily grab its hand. It drives me like a typhoon headed for destruction. But I know I am not willing to destroy what and whom I love.
Every visit to a social site takes me to the realization of how much I am losing, and how much I have already lost. I know some of them I would get back, but I also know what I will never get back– lost moments. The world is moving, unaffected, unperturbed by my frenzy. Even now I wake up at night and want to undo the things I did in the past. But I can’t. I want to get out of this frenzy, now. I don’t want to stare at a blank wall or a mutilated relationship, never. There has to be a better way. I know there are some hands that are extended at me, and I want to grab them. I need those anchors to get out of this hell. This hell is my creation.
I don’t know the date when I first came to this hell. What I know is, in the moments of difficulty and turmoil I sought refuge in this hell. I came here for emancipation, for guidance and for power. But, now I am really tired. I can’t take it anymore. The fire burns me, everyday. I sleep as if I am dead, utterly exhausted, without the desire to wake up the next morning. I want to save my soul, before I am no more.