Mental conditions always influenced writings. The emotions, feelings, thoughts, or anxieties experienced have been translated into words. It can be depression, despair, sadness, loss, guilt, or even a death wish.
The thought of failure in life makes one feel hopeless, and plunges one into the colourless valley of depression and later into the black gorge of death. When all attempts to survive are futile, and there is not even a stretching hand to save, then where is the recourse?
You are frequently unaware of your mind's rhythm. Even if you know, you may not be able to agree. Medicines or chants are often not able to bring those rhythms back.
It is impossible to heal the wounds of the mind without realising why and when they happened. Hundreds of scratches can also result in large lesions, like a hundred thousand single trees standing together to form a big forest.
No medicine can heal such wounds. Instead, it can just be a chemical mixture that makes them forget. Many wounds could be of years old. Each one has a moving story to tell. It can be the dark scars of neglect, pent-up grief, and pain.
No matter how dry the wound is, it will not go away. It always wanted someone's attention, a strong belief that they will not give up on you. Only such a hand can be a pain reliever.
Every time I lay down and writhed in that burn that went deep to the bottom of my mind, I looked for coldness. Knowingly and unknowingly, I often hurt the shade trees. But, deep inside, I longed for a cool shower, hoping the tree would rain even after the storm...
Without knowing, expectations are the heaviest coffin...
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