Every time she felt like staying home, she took the decision not to.
Every time she decided to decline a party invite, she took the decision not to.
Every time she thought of taking pills, she took the decision not to.
Every time she wanted to cry it out, she took a decision not to.
Every time she could've had a breakdown, she took a decision not to.
And because of every decision not to do it, every time she died a bit inside.
But, what was her fault? What was her fault that no one understood her? What was her fault that people made fun of her for something she couldn't control? What was her fault that everything just sucked? What was her fault that she had to go through it all alone? What was her fault for any of it?
She might laugh around people and crack existential jokes. That doesn't make her dark. That could be her way of using humour to deal with depression.
She might not portray her emotions all the time and might leave people in the middle of things. That doesn't make her weird. That could be her way of dealing with social anxiety disorder.
She might double check everything and she might not stand a spelling mistake. That doesn't make her rude. That could be her way of dealing with obsessive compulsive disorder.
She might not easily open up to you or might not want to adventurous things. That doesn't make her a loner. That could be her way of dealing with post-traumatic stress disorder.
She might be a chatter box and talk about everything. That doesn't make her a gossip. That could be her way of using people as something to deal with her pain.
She might be erratic. She might be selfish. She might be hard to comprehend. She might be a million different things. But, how you treat her is what she is finally going to be. You treat her kindly and she might get a reason to live. You treat her cruelly and you might take away her reason to live.
At the end of the night, her pillow is wet and in the morning her eyes sore. In the middle of the crowd her heartbeats are racing and in front of a crowd, her voice is mute. On the body are some unexplained cuts and in the soul are some unexplained pieces. At work, she has a fake smile and at home she has real tears. But at every moment, there is a constant question at the back of her head, "Is it all even worth it?"
(‘Monday Moments’ is a blog series wherein I write about an incident or a moment in a short paragraph. It’s not a story, but just a short description to express and explore the most common joys and also the uncommon miseries.)