Another forkful of rice. Chew. Gulp. Sigh.

She mechanically finished eating the plate of rice that she had so unceremoniously mixed with the egg curry. Her stomach would stop troubling her now. It was fed. Her mind was another matter.

She had woken up late. The previous night had been tough. She remembered in bits and pieces the sound of her crying and her heart pounding against her chest. She remembered the dreadful feeling she had at one point. She had felt suicidal. She was afraid of what her mind was capable of.

She hadn’t had a fight. She wasn’t sad. She just had a lump in her chest and felt like the world was closing in on her. She knew her psychological troubles would catch up to her from time to time. She just did not know that they would not give her any warning. Or that she would feel so broken after each episode.

The night before, during the constricted breathing and sounds of crying, she had wanted to hold the neighbour’s dog close to her. Suddenly it felt like the dog would be the solution. She likes dogs; the undivided attention they gave her. The look on their faces when she petted them. The warmth of their attempted hugs. At that moment, she felt like the dog could do wonders. It was 2 in the night. Not practical to wake the neighbours.

Right now sitting at her desk, putting forks full of rice in her mouth, she was thinking of the neighbour’s dog again.

She could not breathe. Felt suffocated sitting there on her chair pretending to work when her mind was swirling with words that could not possibly make up coherent sentences. She needed a break. She needed breathing space. She was suffocating internally, and did not know what would help.

She just knew that the urge to run away was constantly on the brink of taking hold of her. She did not where she would run to. She just knew she did not like being in the cramped space her life provided her at the moment.

People tried talking to her. All she heard were words that bounced off her. She could feel them sliding off the wall she had build around her consciousness. She nodded, smiled and sometimes appropriately frowned. Don’t worry they said, it’ll be fine. She wanted to scream.

Her mind was its own demons. She had no idea how she could be thinking and feeling so many things at the same time. However, somehow her mind accommodated all her ill bodings and depressive thoughts. They were haphazard. They were sinister. She wanted to scream louder.

Her legs were twitching, so was her consciousness. She wanted with all her might to pass out. To be in a state of oblivion where nothing would bother her. She hadn’t felt the need to be left alone in a long while. She knew it would not make the problems go away. She still wanted to breathe more than anything else.