Writer: Omar Essam
Editor: Abdallah Sobhi
2:38 AM.
I‘m struggling to find a comfortable position in my bed. My mind does not stop complicating it more, overthinking. But maybe it is right. Maybe I’m nothing, or I’m not worth it, or I just have to take my own life…
I’m struggling to find who I am. The real me, the one trapped under my ruthless, unforgiving shell. I’m in a maze that no one knows the solution for because no one’s been in it before. I want to say that I’m depressed but I feel more than a depressed person and I hide more.
I’m struggling to forget everything I’ve done wrong. And again, my mind isn’t doing me any favors by shutting down. My mind keeps bringing up all my wrongdoings, one by one, until I’m questioning my own existence.
I’m struggling to forget the people that left me. That girl that stayed with me throughout my whole life and left me because I visited a psychologist too many times. Little did she know. That one friend that promised to stay forever, but left with no warning and no traces.
My mind is a dangerous weapon. The most painful one there is. It’s a slow killer. Nothing feels its pain like my poor heart—my poor, broken, and submissive heart.
