TW: contains act of suicide. May be disturbing to some readers.
I'm not scared of heights.
In fact, I love heights.
I love the mountain peaks covered in fog,
I love the drop tower ride,
and the Ferris wheel.
But when I see a flight of stairs,
or when I see someone standing at the edge of the terrace,
my heart speeds up.
Fears creeps inside me like a thousand spiders crawling over me.
Perhaps I'm not scared of heights,
I'm just scared of falling down.
Maybe it's because of this one memory
that I have.
A memory of that girl.
She jumped.
She was about twelve years old,
in a grey trackpant and black t-shirt,
and her hair tied up into a tiny bun.
She walked along the edge of the terrace.
And suddenly, she jumped.
It all happened in a few seconds.
And I just stood there, staring.
As my legs shook
and my hands trembled,
as tears streamed down my face, with fear.
***
PS: This happened when I was young, when I was around eleven, I guess. All I remember of that incident is standing outside the building where the incident took place, and watching. I couldn't do anything. I just stood and watched. And the guilt of not being able to do anything, eats me up even now, after almost eight years of that incident.
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Trapped in my own head
PoetryShe is an outcast. She finds it easier to express what she feels in the form of writing. Whether it is poems, letters or long texts. These are poems that she writes trying to describe how it feels to live with certain mental health issues, in a worl...
