Lithium





Hey K, it hasn’t been long since you left. But without you, every moment feels like eternity. I reach out for the box of Lithium tablets that lies on the table. Dr. David tells me that it will help me resuscitate from this abysmally low state of my conscience. They’ve placed me in a tiny cell like I’m a specimen ready to be experimented on.

 

There is darkness all around. Soothing darkness. All there exists, is a little peephole to let the artificial lights embark their journey towards my hurting eyes and shatter my insides; with the scene resembling glass falling on the floor and making deafening noises that bury themselves deep inside my heart and soul. A little bulb hangs over the table too, but I’ve never turned it on. I like it this way only.

 




I behold the box of tablets, which is the only company I have in this somber cell. Maybe it’s just me but the walls keep closing in and the roof keeps caving in, smothering me to lunacy. When I see the silhouette of someone standing in front of the peephole, all that rambles in my head is you banging the door open, taking me by the hand, and manifesting my way out of this caliginous world. Alas, it never happens. The anonymity of the secret silhouette breaks when Dr. David enters the door. He is the only friend I have here. Although I hate him for always turning that little bulb on when he meets me, I tell him everything. The Earth is just like its people. A mystery that seems colourful if you look from afar, but harbors gloomy secrets underneath. And out of the seven billion odd people on this planet, he’s the only one whom I can trust. I love narrating to him the gilt-edged memories you and I shared. He listens solicitously. Moreover, he gives me a new box of Lithium tablets every time he visits. I think he is very inspired by our romance and wants to write a story about us. For he makes notes of whatever I tell him.

 

One day, I overheard him talking to another doctor. He said that your loss had rendered my heart broken, and I’ve gone into manic depression. Little does he know the truth.

 

My heart isn’t broken. Some dreams are too beautiful to come true. Some nights are too dark to witness the daylight. And some hearts are too sensitive to be broken. They’re torn apart. That’s what I tell him.

 

He says that I should try to think less about you if I want to escape from this quarantine. Without you, my existence is in vain, and now you’re gone. So how can I think less about you when the only world we can be together in exists in my mind? I don’t need to think less about you to escape from this quarantine. I hope you’ll come to take me out of here.

 

Till then, I’ve got some memories and a box of Lithium tablets to temporarily mend my torn heart.

 

I miss you. Please come soon.

 


Image Source: flickr.com


 

 


Share With Friends