Creative Non-Fiction

Midnight Revelations

There used to be a time when someone cared. When someone cared to check on me at midnight to see if I was sleeping well, when someone would delude me with the idea that life was all fun and games just so I could rest easy, when someone bothered to be strong enough to hide the cruelty of the world behind their back so I would never get to see it. But then again, when have good things ever lasted for long?

Now I wipe the acid tears that leak from my eyes as I sink into bed, console myself between ragged breaths that I can handle another day and show up with a straight face or, if I'm feeling incredibly tough, maybe a smile. Life has given me everything I could ask for; a loving family, security, education. What more could I want right? Well, I do want more. I want to feel the gush of joy one feels when absorbing themselves into a job they love so much that they can't get out of it. I want to feel the holy fire inside me burn till it consumes me whole. I want the moon and the stars, the sun and its radiance, every smile in this world and every morsel of kindness, the pleasure of a deep slumber and the chaos of a rave. I want everything.

Call me selfish, ungrateful, or whatever wretched adjective comes to your mind. Maybe you're right. Maybe I'm wrong to feel it. But when an anger like this, backed with years of exhaustion begins to nestle in your heart and make a home, morality seems insignificant. If this world can show me one person who's been through hell and shows up moral, I may believe in this concept, but for now, every being I have encountered is a far cry from it.

Therefore, I must ask you to excuse my depraved ranting as it is a habit born of a neglect to be understood by this world, to receive a kind of care only I can recognize. And no, that care does not involve materialistic garbage. All I ask for is for someone to look closely enough, and that when they do, to be able to see me without the need for an explanation. To be able to recognize a truth as heavy as this in a moment of complete stillness is what I seek. But sometimes I wonder, is it too much to ask for?

A
About the Author Aahana Singh The Ardee School, New Delhi · India

Aahana Singh is a student at The Ardee School in New Delhi. She writes for the ones who feel too much and explain it too rarely. Her pieces "The Tortured Poets' Club" and "The Devil's Invitation" also appear in Aporia Issue 2.

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