Kiran Speaks

I forgot how to let my walls down.

I don’t remember what it was like to just say what I felt. Have I ever known that at all? My whole life, I kept the darkness at bay, sealed in an airtight jar and hidden in a coded safe. I’ve always held myself to a standard I could never reach—always something I could see from a distance but never hold in my grasp myself. I let this standard consume the entirety of me, wired through my nervous system, shutting down all my other organs until I could barely breathe, sobbing and wishing it would end. I’ve been chasing a dream of who I am supposed to be and breaking down when the dream cannot become reality.

I started rereading my old poems and stories, wondering where I lost that spark, that flame that kept my writing rolling and brooding. Where did that glimmer of life fade off too, and when did my work start flatlining?

I trace it back to when I lost my vulnerability.

I lost the fire when I let voices flood in and dictate what it meant to give my word. I let shame and self-hate encompass the atmosphere I lived in and went into hiding as if I could escape from my own mind. I think about the betrayals I faced and the paranoia that follows me every step now as I constantly look over my shoulder, anticipating the next grand loss to come. The trauma haunts my dreams in my sleep and my memories when I’m awake. I begin to wonder if it ever ends—will I ever know peace? That’s when the defeat settles in.

All my life, I’ve never felt like I was good enough. I thought that if I let people see my scars, they would view me the way I see myself. I let them live in oblivion as I plastered a smile on my face, my stride carrying an air of strength. Yet, inside, I crumble, deteriorating at an alarming pace to the point where I can barely hold myself up. I struggle to carry myself forward. Yesterday’s trauma led to today’s suffering. I’m stuck in the cycle of “what if,” “should have,” and “would have,” while rejecting “what is.” Sometimes the darkness starts to creep in again, and I wonder if it ever truly gets better. Does the pain end? Do the thoughts ever go away?

There are some answers that I don’t have yet, and some that will come with time. A wise person told me that whatever I am not changing, I am choosing. I’m not as helpless as I think I am, even though sometimes it feels like this is all there is. The one thing I know for certain is that I’m not alone. I’m not the only person who has ever felt this way and struggled with this life-altering anxiety. I’m not the first person who has faced the challenge that is within myself, and I won’t be the last one to overcome it—whenever that ends up happening.

For now, that’s all I need. A new dream—a new hope for a better tomorrow.