Saturday, October 1, 2016

Missing Abigail | Guest Post

GUEST POST by Prateek Singh

Isn't it weird. How a person can be normal, be sane and be happy and try as fucking hard to belong and succeed. And fit in but with all those smiles and dances and dabs wants to fucking shout out loud, wants to fucking explode with everything inside him. Just blow up and cry for hours hoping that something fucking lifts this weight off his chest. 

What the fuck is depression? Can it be medically diagnosed ? 
Can you see it. 
Can you feel it. 
Fuck yes. 

But then why does it feel superficial why does it feel undeserved. And why does it keep coming back. Shouldn't we find depressed people funny? That they fall asleep everyday listening to the same three songs. Crying to the same three songs. Looking at the same 6 pictures. Telling themselves that they're precious. That they don't deserve things that have happened to them but that's okay it's life. It's what it is. And then maybe just maybe if they lie down at 10:23, they can fall asleep by 3:23. Twisting and turning in their own sorrow. Their own fucking broken being. And If they're really lucky. They'll sleep till 6 in the morning. And not be awoken by the same god damn nightmares every freaking 15 minutes. 

Is this depression? 
Is this worth being worried about? 
So then why does it feel like it's superficial?
I don't know.
But don't other people have it worse?
Yes they do.
So I am just being a little bitch ?
Yes, I guess. Maybe.
I don't know .
Then who does?
I don't know.

Ever since Abigail left, no matter how much I want to be the person I want to be i can't. she was the only one I could be anything with. And that's what I miss. That person. That feeling. That belief.


  1. Okay, story time.

    My then boyfriend and I traveled to Mongolia.

    We went to a big sand dune. There many couples climbed up to the top and finger wrote each other’s name on the sand, then watched the wind took the sand- the names to the sky.

    He told me he needed to go to the bathroom and hurried off. I waited for a long while then decided to secretly climb the dune and suprise him later by finger writing his name.

    Then I got a SURPRISE.

    He was there, finger writing.

    I saw the name on the sand clearly.


    A girl’s name.

    Not mine.

    I had no idea what to do, only instinctively hid myself and then went back to the place we apart.

    Young me was heartbroken.

    How could he treat me like this?


    He didn’t love me as I thought and he said?

    Or he no longer loves me as I thought and he said?

    Someone is better than me?

    He got bored on me?

    What’s wrong with him?

    What’s wrong with me?

    Our vacation had 2 days left.

    Should I leave him and go home right now?

    I lied down on the grassland, watching the horizon, suddenly realized I had not yet seen the horizon in Mongolia at night.

    I stayed.

    I decided to enjoy the rest of the travel anyway.

    That night I saw not only thousands, millions HUGE stars in the sky, but far far away in the distance stars ON THE GROUND.

    I have never seen stars like those.

    The first time in my life I realized what a huge universe, and what small tiny human beings. What I do, and what he does won’t affect the universe at all.

    We broke up after the trip.

    Many years passed by. I experienced more and more amazing and shocking things, encountered more and more make-me-smile and make-me-cry people. I became now me. I guess he did the same.

    If now me could time travel to then, what would I do?


    I would talk to him sincerely to make it clear what he really wanted.

    And I would talk to myself sincerely to make it clear what I really wanted, probably like this:

    “Why do you feel hurt and unhappy?”

    “Because I expected he loves me, only loves me, loves me the most. He doesn’t. I’m disappointed.”

    “Why did you expect that?”

    “Because it makes me feel good.”

    “Why does it make you feel good?”

    “Because it values me. And I need to be loved. I need warmth from others. And I gave him love and warmth. I want him to love and warm me back. It’s equal and fair.”

    “Value. Warmth. Fairness. Let’s break it down one by one. So you think if he doesn’t value you, you are less valuable.”

    “Hmmm… Of course not. Why would I let him value me? Why would I let anybody value me? I value myself. Okay I get you.”

    “Now warmth and fairness. You think warmth is a give-and-take thing? Like an fair exchange?”

    “It’s not?”

    “It can be. And it can be not. When you ‘give’ him warmth, do you feel warmer too?”


    “So you were warming both him and yourself. Your warmth doesn’t reduce by ‘giving’ him, quite the opposite, it increases. And the warmth he ‘gave’ you might be originally from yourself.”

    “Do you mean I don’t need others?”

    “You don’t need others to make yourself feel warm. And others don’t owe you warmth.”

    “But right now I feel cold and sad.”

    “You will feel cold and sad for a while. Then you will create warmth again, and always, darling.”

    The tiny me would talk to the huge universe, about cheating, loyalty, warmth, love, happiness, pains, value, existence… of tiny human.

    Then the tiny me would continue discovering, exploring and enjoying the huge universe, with tears and smile.

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