Welcome to the abyss!

Before we shall be released.

Or not. Who knows?

But welcome, nonetheless, my fellow human!

When I departed, I had a grin.

But when I witnessed my funeral, I saw harsh gazes.

Unusual inquiries and cruel remarks for me.

Although I simply cut my wrist. Not someone else’s.

I didn’t explode myself in the market.

I didn’t steal anyone’s possessions.

I had a kaleidoscope of images in my mind.

Projected onto my wrist.

I just wanted to release the blood.

From all the burdens of my heart.

Flowing inside and out.

Pulsating regularly.

Generating a series of signals.

To dismantle my brain.

I simply liberated myself.

But I regretted it the moment I saw my funeral.

My parents were blamed of their failure.

My relatives were informed of their lack of relation.

My friends were explaining me to those who already knew me.

And those who were supposed to handle my funeral religiously,

Were telling everyone how I will suffer in hell.

Forever. For eternity. By cutting my wrist.

Again and again. In a loop.

I knew that.

I read that.

موت کا منظر، مرنے کے بعد کیا ہو گا

That was the first time I questioned my existence.

Why be here to endure?

Here and hereafter?

Then neuron signals started to create frantic signals.

To the beautiful world.

And flowers.

And children.

And smiles.

And skies.

Except my wrist. That I desired to cut. And explore. And liberate.

And I did.

And endured even more.

With more accusations.

With more people envisioning me suffering.

With more people raising their hand but not offering peace for me through lips.

With more people pretending sorrow but feeling disgust for me.

Even death didn’t erase existence.

For once you exist. You exist. And suffer.

But my dear friend! I’m at some peace now.

You are a victim, like me, of your own thoughts.

A beautiful kaleidoscopic mind.

And people are not condemning you as they did me.

They are conversing. Trying to comprehend us.

And our agony of doing what we did.

Just to ourselves.

To relieve ourselves.

From ourselves.

For ourselves.

Even the bearded ones are softening their tone.

And leaving everything to us and our God.

Thank you, my dear friend.

And welcome aboard.

Author: SakiNama

His Highness

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