Mahika Behani
She sits, head in her hands, mind reeling.
What did she do wrong? How did she manage to mess up so bad? Why is everything her fault?
Card after card, she had built up a fragile tower in her head.
No one was allowed to come near it, for fear that it would all come falling down.
10 years. The time it took for the heavy gates to inch open little by little
In order to let in the one person
Who she thought knew her best.
Who cared and would help her turn the teetering pile into a solid castle.
One. The number of people she trusted
And gave the key to her invaluable treasure.
Two. Two hours. The time it took
For realisation to slowly dawn upon her.
Three. Three people who she opened up to
About the incident that pierced into her heart
And left it open so it could bleed out.
Four. Breathe in.
Five. The number of times she had a mental breakdown.
Six. Breathe out.
Seven. She looked in the mirror
And hated what she saw all seven times.
Eight. It’s all my fault. I am a monster. Repeated over and over
Eight times in eight minutes.
Nine. The number of times she was ignored
Every single day
Until she heard the words ‘Face it. Maybe I don’t want to listen to your problems all the time’
Ten. Ten years of friendship and trust built up.
All it took was one wispy breath
For all the words to come tumbling out.
For her whole world
To turn on it’s head.
For her self esteem
To jump out of the plane, thousand of miles high,
Plunge into the ocean
And sink down into the deepest depths
Never to see light again
As the cards slowly fluttered down to the ground.
No longer standing up, wavering
Waiting to become strong,
But rather defeated.
Lying face down
With no hope left.
Two hundred seventy nine days since the incident.
Since she lost the person who she told everything to.
195 days of utter torture
And misery.
Filled with self-doubt.
Days spent riddled with guilt
And self hatred.
How could someone be so disgusting
That they didn’t leave their best friend
Feeling better about themselves.
What kind of person was she?
Not realising that the same had been done to her.
She tried to open up to someone
But the loud voice inside her head
Took command of the ship
And steered it straight for the icebergs.
A rendition of Titanic where there are no survivors.
After all, how could she tell someone her problems
Without feeling like a burden
Or drowning herself in guilt afterwards.
Her stereo was stuck on repeat
‘I don’t want to listen to your problems’
One. The one time her loved one told her she was a burden on them.
Nine. The same conversation ran over and over in her head
Nine times a day.
What could she have said instead
To make it all better
And save herself from entering a nightmare?
Five. The number of times she heard someone say that she wasn’t a burden
And could open up to them.
Zero. How many times she believed them.
195 days after she built up a cage
Around her broken self,
A barricade so powerful
That not even the strongest hammer
Would be able to dent it,
Hiding her emotions
Behind a facade of happiness
And strength,
She experienced pain yet again.
She realised what it was like
To physically loose someone
And not be able to say goodbye.
In a span of less than 300 days,
Two people left her behind,
Except only one of them went
To play with the angels.
Eight. Eight seconds after she was woken up
To the words “Wake up. She’s dead”
Did the river start flowing,
Only to become a raging, torrential thunderstorm
As she watched them take her away
From her windowsill. Helpless. Still.
Four. Four days of radio silence
Not picking up anyone’s calls
Because the one person who she needed the most
Didn’t want to listen to her problems
And hadn’t bothered to say ‘hi’
In more than 20 days.
It has been eighty four days since
And now she has the resemblance
Of a smile on her face.
Her cheeks are rosy pink
Her eyes sparkling
And her teeth showing
As she opens her mouth
To let out the purest little laugh.
She wakes up smiling,
Goes to bed smiling.
She understands that it is okay to be sad,
But knows that she has to get back up again
And that people around her care.
What changed since?
Three. Three people
Who she shared her story with.
Five. ‘It’s always darkest before dawn’
Five words which reshaped her whole perspective.
35 days ago, she finally let the armour
Crack open a sliver
And let out a part of her story.
She asked to talk
Every single day.
Waiting for them to call her
At the designated time - 3:30
She checked her phone. 3:29
She organised her books. 3:31
She lay down and listened to her favourite song
Waiting. 3:35
The minutes slowly passed.
As she waited for the soft ring
Of someone calling. 3:40.
She closed her eyes. 3:50.
Her breathing slowly became even
And her heart rate dropped back to normal.
She told them ‘I’m sorry, I fell asleep’
As if it were her fault
And she hadn’t spent 30 minutes
Anxiously waiting for the promised phone call.
They apologised and said they forgot.
Like it wasn’t a big deal that she had reached out to them for help.
Little did they know
The strength it took her to ask.
But she soon replied ‘It’s okay, sorry for bothering you. I’m fine now.’
For fear of being a burden
And losing yet another person.
She then tucked her phone away
Into the depths of her closet.
‘Don’t worry. You’re not disturbing me. I will call you tomorrow’
Those words lifted up
The heavy weight pushing down on her
Allowing her to finally breathe.
But yet, she was scared
And went over the conversation
Word by word
So she knew exactly what to say.
3:30 sharp, the person called.
As she spoke, her words pierced into her armour
And slowly cracked it open
Bit by bit.
The rehearsed conversation forgotten
As she allowed the words to flow out freely again.
Not worried about being a burden.
Convinced that it was okay to open up
And that it would help her.
Words of assurance, love, support and comfort
Tore down the barricade to rubble
Until it dissolved away completely.
She didn’t hear ‘You’re overthinking. It’s all in your head.’
Instead, she heard ‘I will be there for you. Call me whenever you want. Remember, it’s always darkest before dawn’
The conversation played over in her head
All 97 minutes of it,
The last line sticking with her.
For the first time in 244 days
She felt the breeze blow through her hair
And the sun warm her cheeks
As her face broke out into a smile.
Words hurt her. Broke her into a million minuscule pieces.
Words picked those pieces back up. And slowly pieced her together again.
She realised the power of a voice.
Twelve. 12 appreciation letters sent out
In order to brighten up someone else’s day
And bring a smile to their faces,
In turn, bringing one to her face as well.
One. The day after,
She switched on her phone to see
One appreciation note
Which made her day.
121 minutes of conversation
With yet another person
Who helped show her that it would all be okay,
Providing her with the building blocks
To strengthen the castle
And rebuild it stronger than ever.
The power of a voice.
Positivity. Something which in spreading
Doesn’t take much out of you.
But rather fills you up inside
With a warm, homely feeling.
Appreciation. How many times
Do you say thank you
To the ones who do the most for you?
How often do you let someone know
How much you care about them?
She understood the strength of words.
Words aren’t easily forgotten.
The person who’s mouth
Lets out the words
Which drive the final nails into someone’s coffin,
Shoving them into the depths of darkness,
Might not remember what they said.
But the person who was pushed,
Will never forget.
Words have the power to make or to break you.
You. If you have the opportunity to speak.
If your lips can move
And string alphabets into words
Which are finally delivered to a person,
Take the time
To think of the force behind those words.
You are powerful. Your words, immensely so.
You can either blow down the delicate card tower into dust
With one single breath
After earning a sense of false trust.
Or you can replace the fragile thing
With a strong solid castle
Built brick by brick
With your words of support
And positivity.
The world is in a mess.
People all over are hurting.
This girl is just one face out of billions of others.
528K dead in a span of four months.
What we don’t realise
Is that each one of these numbers and figures
Is a person. A name. A face. A personality.
The world has been broken down
By means beyond our control.
People are being broken down
And torn apart
By ones they loved.
Means which we can control.
The world needs positivity now
More than ever.
Be the change.
Understand the power of your voice.
Make someone smile.
Send someone an appreciation letter.
You never know what they might be going through,
Or when it will be too late.
You might not be able to see
The nightmares hidden
Underneath their masks
Of happiness.
Your words can make a difference.
Choose to do it the right way.
When someone asks to talk,
Understand the strength it took them to do so.
Don’t leave them waiting for days
After you tell them that you are free.
There will come a time
When they will stop asking everyday
For fear of being a burden.
When someone reaches out to you,
Be there for them. Hold their hand
And guide them back onto the path
That they are desperately searching for.
Don’t let them scramble about
In the darkness
All alone.
It’s hard.
It hurts.
You can make it better.
They trust you. They have faith in you.
You can do it.
She sits, head held high, eyes sparkling.
She realises,
No matter what is going on
Her positivity lies in her hands.
She turned those negative thoughts positive
And she made 12 people smile in one day.
That makes her a superhero.
She is strong and now knows
The true power of a voice.