The rest of the day at school was numbness and loneliness.

The thing about demons is that they are always there for you. They are like a drug- the once you get them, you know you need to stay away from them but you just don’t. You will once in a while be away, but you’ll soon be back with them, again and again. They make you feel insecure, but you also feel the safest curled up with them because you know, people come and go, demons are here to stay.

This is what has been happening to me. I don’t know why it began or how or where or when it began, but I don’t even care about it anymore. I just feel like sticking to my demons forever.

I know we all have come here for a purpose, there is a reason, a goal to be achieved for what we all exist, for each life, but I don’t seem to have one or find it if it’s there. Whenever I think, or try to, I end up concluding that neither am I doing any good to anything or anyone being alive nor does my life seem to go somewhere. Then kicks in the need for numbness.

There are many ways one thinks of to become numb under such circumstances- substance abuse, self-harm or the place where both the previous ones eventually lead to, the end.

I don’t know if I’m suicidal or not, but I want my life to come to an end. Many people confuse the both, being suicidal means to want to kill oneself and to want to die is to want your life to come to an end, yourself (being suicidal) or through something or someone else.

“Tring!” rang the doorbell, pulling me out of the train of thought which had gone far. I got up, checked the time, it was 7:55 p.m., and opened the door. Mumma was back from the office.