Finding no medicine, I made disease my cure!

Even when screaming at top of my voice,
Why isn’t anyone listening to my noxious noise?
Why won’t anyone believe?
The crazy stuff I confess are not lies
Or will it take eternal silence for my scars to catch their eyes?

This is how I felt day and night- trapped, not only by the disease but also by the scurvy stigma attached to it.  Its inexplicability proved to be an affliction just as equal as the trauma brought forth by illness itself.
I panicked, I cried, my nails drew scars both on the paper of skin and canvas of walls, yet those remained unobtrusive. People did notice the dark shades, but instead of painting it bright, they demanded a logical reason for it to be flawed in first place.
And frankly I didn’t have one. I won’t slander my struggles or accuse my past for the reckless reality I face today; people have suffered worse fire of hell and came out transformed into gold.
Yet I found myself ashes on the ground.
Advices agonized me and perceptions pestered my mood. I wasn’t just sad and I couldn’t just snap out of it. No, I didn’t lock myself up in some dark room. Hell, I even slept profusely, but deeper into my dreams, demons would come dancing, wreaking their havoc and the restless thoughts would jolt me awake.
It was tough to accept, even tougher to sympathize. It requires calmness of mind and up over in my head, I was smothered by never ending anxiety. Yet I kept running; worried, I’d be left far behind but when façade of smile got too tiresome, I decided to better pour out the flood of tears restrained since long.
When glum clouds would gobble me in their shadow, I’d battle hard just to survive but the tornado would wreck the soul, and I would find my spirit on knees laid over ruins of dreams.
Finding myself isolated, helpless I began to heal myself up, to be my own help. Now that I have learnt that climbing steep slope is too big a weight on depressed shoulders, I now take small steps, feeling grateful for each of them for once I had almost quit on life.

And strangely I found darkness to be contenting. Now I celebrate even the trivial of adventures.
Because even walk in a park isn’t just walk in a park; and there lies the peculiarity, I feel wretched to find it intimidating but once I end up doing it, it also makes me blissfully happy.