Posts Tagged ‘depressed teenager’


My hands tremble’

with words i fumble.

Brain stops working,

I ain’t thinking,

that boy in Mental Depression?

Why did they do that?

Was he not Almighty’s creation?

I thought about him—

He was a little mentally err…

unstable is false

insane falser

he was mentally special

no matter who was in front of him

he used to just shake hands with him

boys abused him

girls used to foolishly grin

but he didnt care

even if to him the world was not fair

but the world a sad place

grew jealous of his smile

each day he with his unbreakable spirit

he used to just shake hands with strangers

smiling waving to them

he was the sole flower

in a desert under the sun

but day by day the flower withered

unable to stand the headays went by

his smile was now a model of repressed emotions

he quit shaking hands

reason?

people called him insane

on his face

retard insane a laughing stock

but the hell was yet to unleash itself

he the lamp in the darkness of depression

was kicked out of his house

after he failed to get to any college

no friends deserted by his family

For days he just sat at the corner of a bench

on the mercy of those who gave him food

then he disappeared

five years later today found him in a hospital

never told me he was in depression

why did they do that to him

because he waved to them

I met him he was staring at the roof

was on machine barely alive

he looked at me those eyes…..

they captured me

they didnt have the happiness

they used to

they were …….hollow

drained

he didnt say anything just stared

I came out unable to face him

The lamp had gone out

the flower had died

the world drained the happiness out of him

his soul was also lost to the demon

consumed by hell itself

I came out wondering was there a God?

My hands tremble’

with words i fumble.

Brain stops working,

I ain’t thinking,

that boy in Mental Depression?

Why did they do that?

Was he not Almighty’s creation?

I thought about him—

He was a little mentally err…

unstable is false

insane falser

he was mentally special

no matter who was in front of him

he used to just shake hands with him

boys abused him

girls used to foolishly grin

but he didnt care

even if to him the world was not fair

but the world a sad place

grew jealous of his smile

each day he with his unbreakable spirit

he used to just shake hands with strangers

smiling waving to them

he was the sole flower

in a desert under the sun

but day by day the flower withered

unable to stand the headays went by

his smile was now a model of repressed emotions

he quit shaking hands

reason?

people called him insane

on his face

retard insane a laughing stock

but the hell was yet to unleash itself

he the lamp in the darkness of depression

was kicked out of his house

after he failed to get to any college

no friends deserted by his family

For days he just sat at the corner of a bench

on the mercy of those who gave him food

then he disappeared

five years later today found him in a hospital

never told me he was in depression

why did they do that to him

because he waved to them

I met him he was staring at the roof

was on machine barely alive

he looked at me those eyes…..

they captured me

they didnt have the happiness

they used to

they were …….hollow

drained

he didnt say anything just stared

I came out unable to face him

The lamp had gone out

the flower had died

the world drained the happiness out of him

his soul was also lost to the demon

consumed by hell itself

I came out wondering was there a God?


No freddom

My head is going dizzy. It is paining too much. The air was heavily filled with the smell of tobacco. I have been smoking my pipe for the last one hour, sitting in my rocking chair, in the heat of the flame, I was lost deep in thoughts. I have lost my job today and now there is no Mary to divert my thoughts. For the first time in my life I am feeling miserable. The lonely sensation is common for me from the day Mary had left me and the world. For the first time in my life, I have come to know the meaning of depression. I stand up from my chair and go to the mirror, there was standing a Paul Anderson staring me from within the depths of the mirror, short hair, and Irish green eyes; yes this is me Paul Anderson. Today I know what it feels like to be depressed. Today I know what Steven Flo must have felt like. Oh! How old memories rushed inside me, for much of my life I had tried to forget these memories, forget Steve. But today these memories rushed to me like it all happened yesterday. Steven Flo was a genius, not that he was the topper in our class but those who knew him completely, knew that beneath his undeveloped educational skills was a brain far more developed than other children of his age. But if there was one thing sad about him were his parents. He was the youngest of the 6 Flo brothers. All other five were topper but Steve was a below average child. Pie, theta, gamma were far too easy for him to understand at the age of 7. But unfortunately he hated studies. He was experiencing too much pressure from his parents. He hated them. It was at the age of 12 that Steve started experiencing hell. It was perhaps 5 Feb. when I received his phone call, he said “Paul I have found my adoption papers in mom’s jewelry box.” He was tensed. I advised him to talk to them. He did but alas his anger came in between. After his mother scolded him for opening her jewelry box. He had shouted at her for not telling him he was adopted. Then one day he comes to school with a blacked eye. He told me that his father had done it when he had demanded the names of his parents. It was at the age of 15 when the incident happened. It was a Sunday morning Steve was lying near the flowerbed, trying to gain some tan. And as usual he had gone into a row with his mother who had scolded him for not studying. He had received beating from his father. He said “what gives you right to beat me” his voice made it clear that he was trying to fight back tears. “You are our son” his mother replied. “You are just a foul women you aren’t my mother”. This was enough to break his father’s patience. Steve was lashed. The wounds on his back were bleeding he ran into the bedroom and closed the door. His mother shouted “open the dam door”. “I quit” Steve replied and the last thing he heard was his mother commanding his father to break the door. I don’t know what made his mother break the door, perhaps it was because the love for Steve buried deep inside her heart had resurfaced or perhaps she was afraid what the neighbors would say about her hatred for Steve. But I know one thing; after the door had broken she had realized it was too late. That day she had understood what Steve meant by his self –created phrase ‘you can’t grow a tree in a confined space; you ought to give it freedom’. That day the Flo family had lost a member whose knowledge was far more than any other Flo member. But perhaps suicide isn’t an option for me I have to wait for this terrible night to be over, I have to trust god to do the best for me.