Three Days

All I needed, I was told,

were three days.

Three days, for my world to return

to a state of normalcy.

Three days,

I waited.

Three days,

I counted.

In those three days,

I woke up to the tear-stained pillows,

which helped muffle

my cries at night.

I went to bed with suppressed screams,

grief that I wished I would become numb to

and everything that happened in between

is but a blur.

I prayed and I hoped,

I denied and I fought,

but there is no escape.

I told myself that I am strong,

that I could overcome this,

but I could not help but drown into

the seemingly dark and never ending abyss.

I tried to pull myself up,

I tried to get away,

and eventually I did,

scarred and damaged

beyond repair;

cuts deeper than any medication could fix.

Three days later,

I survived.

The world hasn’t returned to it’s

previous state of normalcy.

Rather, the grief, the sorrow

all the emotions held deep inside

become normal.

The very things that

had the ability to crush me

became what I knew best.

The tragedy, the pain, the cries,

it’s what I am now.

In those three days,

I became a survivor.

In those three days,

I became someone new.

And in those three days,

I became a shell of someone I knew.

-TEJESVINI BALAJI

5/04/14

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