Think Destruct

"You'll make us both go crazy! Stop thinking so much!",

she said, as I caught a glimpse of a tree which was stained with a typical curry that's made exclusively in Lucknow which was spilled onto the bark of the tree before being nearly washed out by rains a month ago as the train in which we were raced past an ancient rural habitation. The third, topmost and newest piercing on her left ear was beautiful, but I had other things to think about. A person who had befriended me on Facebook and had his first and last conversation with me 236 days ago on the same social networking platform had his birthday coming up in 3 days. I wasn't sure if I should wish him, as our first and last conversation lasted 7 messages and 86 letters from his side and 3 messages, 17 letters from mine. I would later find out that he had deleted me off his Facebook, but for now, the problem persisted. The sunset today would commence in 4 hours and 21 minutes, which meant I had to be home soon to make my sister dispense her eye-drops while I was supposed to take my meds, just like so many other times. 

"Nasir!! What are you thinking about?!" she exclaimed, looking at me expectantly. "Did you forget that I'm still here?"

"Of course not. I can always tell if you're around. Although I get confused sometimes."

Her gaze is fixated on me, waiting for more fodder to dissolve her confusion.

"You're like the sun. So whenever your're not around but the sunshine is bright, I think you're still there", I said, like it was obvious. It was.

She smiled. "You haven't taken them today, have you?" she asked, noticing that I saw everything around, and not just her.

"Of course not. It dulls down my brain. You know that".

Long ago, I was prescribed a certain dosage of pills to balance the neurotransmitters in my brain and thus control the hyperactivity. I was told to breathe and calm down, as in the night, this sort of thing resulted in anxiety attacks and deliriousness. But as long as I had my thoughts with me, it was all worth it. I wondered why the doctor always treated me as some kind of freak. Thinking was normal, right? I mean, my doctor definitely would've thought why her husband left her and the kids. Probably with another woman, because she hated him so much that she'd thrown her 15-year old engagement ring along with his pictures, leaving a white patch around her finger and pictures of just her with the kids. But I was called a freak anyway. I was told to be normal. I was given the examples of how other people think just the right amount, even though they're nowhere close to getting their own shit together. I was told that things between me and so many other girls would've been perfect, but my head got in the way. I was told that I wouldn't have been alone if I hadn't been thinking so much all along, but they didn't get it. Alone is what I have. Alone protects me. At least I'd thought so till the girl sitting beside me entered my little bubble and accompanied me till she thought the bubble was too small. She suffocated and choked, till she finally had to step out. But being alone hadn't cut it just yet. There was much more to come, and I'd later find out that thoughts were all that I could muster to save me from myself. But for now, I dissolved only to feel more alive. I didn't figure just yet how to end this post. Wait.

I'm still thinking.