The HE you didn't know.

He’s always had a choice to keep everything simple in his life. But he says what he shouldn't, holds back what he shouldn't. He has hundreds of things racing over in his mind. He is never at ease. Not even in his dreams. Incessant thinking keeps him from sleeping and dreams continue to haunt when he wakes up in the morning. They stay with him whilst he is awake and they don't go away when he is asleep. He lives inside of his own heart. That's a pretty awful place to live in. Trust him when he says that. He cannot step out even if he wants to. He is bonded with his thoughts. Sometimes everything gets so worse that he cannot even begin to tell what he feels inside. In his head, he talks about a hundred things but doesn't give way to the words that ring on ears. Every word that competes to ooze out ends up staying right there, for the verdict of who goes out first never comes. He is afraid of talking, he is afraid of trusting, he is afraid of loving, he is too embarrassed to seek help. He tries and finds his own ways, he measures every thought, every decision in terms of rationality and irrationality. He either ends up taking a good decision or he messes up everything again! At times he thinks he is above everything. Nothing can weigh him down. And other times he presses it so hard on himself that he buries himself under the parameters of good and bad, wise and unwise! Sometimes he thinks he deserves all the best things in life. Other times he thinks he doesn’t deserve anything at all and walks away in shame into an unpleasant room of past.

He finishes his day. Closes the door behind him and he is a changed person. Nights are bad. Very bad. He lays still. Tries to sleep. He fancies a dreamless sleep that spreads over him like charged dark clouds spread over a mountain. But a thought peeps in like a sharp sunray destroying every droplet of mist. Then another follows. Thoughts begin pouncing upon him as if they'd been waiting for the whole day awaiting their turn. That night at 2 AM he thinks of where he will be in ten, fifteen or twenty years. Other night at 2 AM, he thinks if he will even make it that far. He frets at the stupidest thought which he would normally brush off with a laugh during the day, supposedly, when he is all normal and composed a guy who most people deem as close-to-perfect. He cannot fake what he is not. He is tired of faking a smile and moving on when he can't. What age is he wonders? A hundred? Or a mere 27 summers and rains combined? Should he be thinking of all of this at such an early juncture? The thinking mind is a wise mind they say. Fuck it! He wishes he was as thick-skinned as a perpetrator. Mean. And ignorant. But perpetrators too are victims of circumstances. What is he a victim of? He always had a choice to keep everything simple. He chose not to.
He has so much to give, but afraid of not getting back.
He is not of this world as he knows it.
Moments of despair are faced by everyone. For most of them the sun comes out and tomorrow is another day! And for the rest, darkness never seems to end.
They say everything heals with time. But how can he heal when he doesn't feel the time? He feels stuck between something and nothing.
Some days he is completely vulnerable. He can feel everything. Other days he is numb. He could have been someone you know. You could have met him on the train. Or he is the one you snubbed at the cash counter. Or the one you slapped at the cinema. He could be living around you or...perhaps inside of you. Who is to say? Slow down for a moment the next time you come across him...shake hands, smile and imply he is going to be okay. That should suffice.
For a lot of people have him in their lives, he has none!