• laconicknight 6w


    Travelling in local,
    I see the story of a friend at office on
    I too put up a post on the same;
    Explaining how we should talk to each other
    Or how I am always there to listen
    Or how mental health needs to be addressed more.
    I too use
    I ask people to share things
    For I know how it feels;
    To be left unheard.
    To have all those words and feelings
    And incidents,
    Get curled up inside your heart-
    Your soul.
    And when someone finally asks,
    "How's everything?"
    These mumbled emotions line up perfectly
    But what comes out is,
    "Everything's fine."

    My friend at office
    Has a colleague
    Sitting at the last table
    In the same row as hers.
    No-one remembers his name,
    For to them he's an introvert.
    But the last time I was there,
    I noticed him
    Counting the entire stairs
    Up and down
    To the sixth floor!
    I saw his desk to be perfectly arranged,
    And others tagging him to be an "OCD".
    He didn't talk to anyone.
    Had his lunch silently.
    And left the place as quietly as he came.
    But they didn't realize
    His perfect desk was a veil on his messed up life;
    His silence was not the lack of words but ears.
    Him counting the stairs
    Was his way of reassuring himself
    That some things never change
    And it's ok for them to be like that.
    And everyday
    He stands on the sixth floor balcony
    For a tap on his shoulder,
    For a hand to catch him
    For arms to hold him before he fell apart.
    One fine day
    He didn't need them anymore.