Trapped in my own mind

                   

So I came across this picture, strange to say but it was in the humour section of a website I frequently browse. I could not see anything funny in it but rather relate to it. I don't know what you've perceived from this picture, but to me I see happiness in death. 

People say cowards commit suicide and I don't believe that. The underlying reason for someone to commit suicide is something that others fail to understand because they will never comprehend the mental state of someone who feels suicidal. And even if they do, a tremendous amount of effort is needed to snap someone out of it. 

Some people are born optimists, I fail to understand where they get so much positivity from? possible via lessons from life. But for me, I find it difficult to focus when I get depressed. A great battle erupts within my mind. Battle between the 'optimist me army' and the 'pessimist me army'. Then there is a 'realist me' standing and watching the battle in progress. The 'realist me' is like an all knowing wizard who sees what is happening and also knows the actual outcome, but is always powerless. These army personnels literally fight in my mind and if the optimists win, I look forward to life. But if they lose and the pessimists succeed, I am fucked. These pessimist forces invade my brain cells and rape my mind. The result is devastating. 

The mind refuses to think. Refuses to think outside the box, refuses to believe that there is a way out, refuses to shun bad feelings, and wants to end life. And the state of mind is similar to the picture above. Well atleast in my case. What happens then?

The 'optimist forces' in my head are well trained and the best in the body. Their intelligence is so good that they have the best back up plans. Their success rate is brilliant and they have never failed. Because if they had, I wouldn't be here typing this. Throughout the history of my mind, these two forces (optimists and pessimists) have fought in my head. Sometimes for days or even months. Recently when the pessimists won, killing all optimist forces, my mind was in great turmoil. But somehow, history repeated itself. The Trojan war. A handful of surviving optimist forces hid themselves in a wooden horse and placed it in a corner of my mind. The enemy forces bought it in to the brain cells and the rest as you know is history. I call the hidden 'optimist forces' in the horse by a different name, HOPE.

The battle is over for now. But I can guarantee there will be many more in the future. And I really count on the 'optimist forces'. Without them, I am doomed. But I am sure they will come up with a plan. They always do.