I've never been (Un)happier

by Shaheen Bhatt

My breath comes in gasps as I rock back and forth, heaving with sobs. The tightness in my chest does nothing to deter the deep, guttural sounds that escape from me against my will. It’s as if my senses seamlessly teeter between being heightened and dulled: my puffy, leaden eyes are blinded by the bathroom lights though my vision is hazy, I’m awash in noise that jangles my nerves but it all seems to be coming from far, far away. Even the tiled floor feels stony and jagged against my unnaturally sensitive skin. In this moment of physical discomfort my insides match my outsides. My body may be at war with my surroundings but it’s oddly welcome, distracting me from the other, invisible war being waged in my mind. I clutch my knees and cry until the tears no longer come, until my body is as spent as my mind, then I slowly peel myself off the floor and return to the bowels of my bed. On some days this bed is my home, on other days it is more like my captor. I’m unable to tear myself away from it, unable to even sit upright. Each time I muster the will and energy to lift myself up, I’m pulled back into its depths by some overpowering magnetic force. I lie in bed and stare unseeingly at the ceiling. I’m exhausted and in pain.