Sometimes…it’s too much thought: Rant of a chaotic mind
Unraveling mental health struggles in the time of COVID-19
By Mariam Baloch
MBBS Student, Pakistan
I tried breathing but i fail.
The pain has me in an invisible chokehold making it impossible to gulp those precious sips of air.
It feels suffocating.
It feels unbearable.
Surely there must be something to make it better.
A thought trickles into mind. I remember that tiny flash. The glinting metal in the drawer of my dresser.
Should I?
The subconscious decides for me. With a stealth any ninja would be proud of, I lock the door. The click too audible in the quiet of the room. I take the blade, a bit upset, that I am ruining the packaging.
I inspect it, fascinated with the tiny instrument, calculating, brooding.
“I inspect it, fascinated with the tiny instrument, calculating, brooding.”
Would she infer, that she was the cause of my hurt. That she caused me to finally snap. The daughter that was never good enough, now is lifeless-Dead.
Would I be able to see?
I picture the janaazah lying in our porch, with my ghostly apparitionn standing in a corner.
Would she cry?
Would she be in pain as I am?
Would that be a punishment enough?
The thought makes me smile. Almost.
The moment of monetary distraction passes, and I turn my attention back to the tiny object.
Where to do it?
Bathroom!
I must announce I am going to take a shower.
Yes. That will probably give me an hour.
This is it.
I close my eyes,
Take a deep breath;
And apply the subtlest of pressure.
Just a bit more,
I do it.
Opening eyes, I look down to see a mere trickle of blood. The cut which is little more than a pinpoint lesion, almost undetectable.
Phew! That felt good.
The pain masks the hurt.
Barely.
A sob wrenches out of me.
This was supposed to make it stop.
It doesn’t.
I contemplate.
Alas, I have exhausted all resorts of bravery for this day.
Perhaps, with xylocaine again.
It is not thoughtlessness or impulsivity that propels you to end life.
Sometimes, it is too much thought.