The Unseen Battle: A Journey Through Darkness

You think it's easy being me? Enduring the pain, the suffering? Yes, I've made choices that led me down a path of my own—one filled with uncertainty, despair, loneliness, and relentless hard work. But despite it all, I’m proud of myself. Not everyone could walk this road. I didn’t do it to be different; this is simply who I am.

Yet, there are days when everything feels impossibly difficult. When the nights stretch longer and colder, and the daylight pierces like an arrow. On those days, all I want is to curl up in bed and let my grief consume me. On days like these, I miss my unknown home a little more. I yearn for the presence of people I’ve never met but who I hope to find in the future. I crave someone to care for me when I reach my limit, to provide the warmth I so desperately need.

But instead, I find myself trapped in the embrace of my sadness, searching for reasons to rise while it clings to me, whispering that perhaps I should stay down. The shame and guilt of this invisible battle, one that no one else can see or understand, only deepen my despair. Sometimes, even I wonder if it’s all in my mind. But then the demon comes—looming as large as my sorrows, casting a shadow over everything colorful in my life. He keeps me wide awake at night, and during the day, his grip is too tight for me to escape. The pain is real, undeniable, even when I question it.

Crying for hours without reason has become my norm. I try to fight it, but when I’m defeated, it’s too hard to stand. These days, the pain feels sharper, the pillows wetter than they should be. These days, I lose my appetite for food and life, hiding from people, fearing the light. These days, I long for someone to take care of me, but instead, I find myself painfully alone. Will anyone ever understand this? Can anyone help? Because these days, I feel like I might die, and the voices in my head tell me that maybe it’s better if I do. But I don’t want to give up. I’ve come too far, endured too much. Yet, these days make all the bad memories rush back, filling me with fear.

I lie in bed, unable to move, hoping for things to reset. But these days, everything is out of reach. Even the shows that once made me laugh seem dull. These days, all I want is to sleep—maybe an induced sleep, just to escape the worry. Worry about the responsibilities I have now, like the internships I’m juggling, the leaves I’m taking, the duties I’m neglecting, and the lies I’ll have to tell tomorrow to cover up the truth. Because who would believe it? A fever would be easier. At least with a fever, there’s no guilt, and you have a prescription to prove it. But whatever this is, it’s dismissed as a lie by most. To some, I’m an attention seeker, to others, an ungrateful brat, lazy. They say it’s all in my mind—tell that to the scars on my body and soul.

‘Push yourself,’ they say. ‘Everyone has issues; you can’t rest all the time.’ Do they think I don’t try? Don’t they know how hard I fight this demon that only I can see? His pride is vast, overshadowing my courage these days. He doesn’t let go easily, draining my energy and leaving me bedridden—sometimes for days, sometimes weeks, sometimes months. I’m not weak; I’m strong. But I’m not sure I’m stronger than this. He knows all my weaknesses, hides too deep, and yet always finds his way back to me.

I’m overwhelmed. The stress is becoming too much for me to bear.