You are me. I am you.

I feel these four walls closing in on me with each exhalation. My breath inversely driving my claustrophobia. When I close my eyes and inhale for a second, the misery of this life spreads outwards only to come rushing back when I expire — like a spring-wired mechanism that’s come undone and sucked me in its convoluted snaps and throes as it collapses into a condensed pile of mess. I’m entangled. Unwillingly.

What causes my claustrophobia? These people. This world. These petty, small, self-centered, narrow people that surround me. These naked egos, selfishly marauding within bodies and names they’ve taken hostage. Where are the souls behind these lying, conniving, hurtful masks? I can’t see them. Those naked souls would lighten my breath, stretch out and forever expand my heaving four-walled room of fear and anxiety.

I crave an end to this — I crave a world where people can put themselves last and not be exploited or mocked for it . I crave a world where being sensitive is not a mental foible, where selflessness is not the same as foolhardiness. A world where big fish swim innocuously with small fish; where everyone can swim together. I crave for a world where souls pause to look each other in the eye and speak, wordlessly, as if to say : “I see you, I feel you. I need you. I am with you.”

Under all these billion dreadful masks and skin-coats, we are all but bones and naked souls. Think about it. You are me and I am you. If only this world understood . . .

Originally published at on April 9, 2015.

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