The weekends will kill me someday!

“Weekends”! The one word which brings a sense of relief and joy seems dark to me. I hate the weekends. The word reminds me of my sheer loneliness and desolation. All alone, locked in my dark, monochrome room. Isolated from the world, I sit lonely with my melancholic thoughts. Sometimes I pity myself for the situation, but on second thought, this is what I deserve. A sad, miserable life with no hopes.

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The weekdays are somehow passable, but the weekends are all about pain. I have roommates, but not on weekends. I have close friends, but not accessible on weekends. My family and life friends are far away in a distant city, unaware of my miserable state. The weekends are endless. No one to share my thoughts or listen to my voice or see my emotions apart from the walls. The bland white walls stare at me with a glaring bleakness. The dark corners creep gloomy shadows. The windows and doors are mere spectators to my loneliness. There is a tree as well. Old and its branches are completely devoid of leaves. The tree also mocks me on weekdays as if expecting my end.

The end, I often wonder, how will it be. Will it be painful or effortless? Maybe I will mingle with the walls which seem to be closing on me with alacrity. The despair is evident in me and there is no respite. It’s like getting caught in a bad dream for real. You wish to wake up from it, shuddering and shivering with a jolt but you can’t. These dark, ominous walls are hell bent on assimilating me. The nights are even darker. I hear weird voices and see shadows creeping on the walls. Panic stricken, I shut my eyes and cover my face with a bedsheet just in the hope that the shadows will spare me.

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Is there light at the end of the dark tunnel? Two days of sheer torture, mental disturbances and melancholy are all I get during the weekends. These days, the walls are whispering and hypnotising me with terrible morbid thoughts. These walls are wiping my memories, my happiness and making me sick and slowly devouring me bit by bit, piece by piece. Let it be, hey walls! Devour me and end my miseries. Take my memories, my soul, my desires, optimism and all sense of love, friendship, companionship, and life…

Perhaps, one day I will be engulfed by the closing walls of my flat. My skin, bones, intestines and thoughts will mingle with this flat, removing my physical existence. The dark and dingy flat will surely triumph in the long run, but nothing in this world is permanent. These sinister walls will one day fell flat on its face. It’s cement and broken bricks will mingle with the earth, releasing my soul back on the earth.

Perhaps, I will be born again from the dust. I will be part of a blooming flower, a handsome tree, I will be part of the soil or the crops. I will be part of a hummingbird or a little kid playing in the mud. I will certainly live in this world once again! That’s the sole solace for my soul.

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