A daughter, a sister, a friend, a lover, that is how I defined myself and my world revolved around those facades that I put up every day. Until one day though, the day when I came to know that I have some autoimmune disease and my body started rejecting my own hair follicles all of a sudden. All my hairs withered away in front of me and with it did all my identities.
Suddenly the facades started peeling off and I found myself being stared at from all directions and gawked to the point at which I became afraid of my own reflection in the mirror. I was afraid of the daylight, the outside world it beheld with all those curious eyes which I always found somehow peering at me, invading the very last inch of my own space that I could truly call mine and suddenly it was gone. I felt claustrophobic, suffocating, choked. I was crumbling away and slowly drowning intothe abyss.
If the outside world was grueling, the home was austere.The longing peer in the eyes of the people I loved who yearned for something that deep down I knew was never possible again ate me away from the inside. From denial to unacceptance to finally getting to terms with reality, they were affected in ways I could never apprehend and that in turn affected me. I slowly went into this reclusive shell, building palisades around me, confining myself into this trembling shelter I built.
The long meandering hours of the day slowly trickled into the unwinding night and that’s when the demons came in. Although I had believed that in the night I will seek my refuge, I had mistaken. For you see nights are made of love, of torture, of reminiscence, of solitude, but also of time, endless agonizing time.
Meanwhile the medication that I took was causing various side effects, insomnia being one of them and I found myself staring at the ceiling unable to sleep and somehow I found all those eyes haunting me from every possible direction. I felt violated, abused, disgusted. Finally one night when I thought I couldn’t endure anymore and I felt choked to the last inch of my exhausted lungs, I went up to the roof, and then it happened, something magical. A tranquil silence greeted me and there as I stepped out into the open, I was in presence of the stars in a grand opera of sorts. Looking up at them I realized how insignificant all my problems were as compared to the reticent symphonies they were singing, and then I started listening. I felt at peace. I felt me.
I embraced the night in a way I hadn’t done previously and as we spoke to each other in those weary hours, I felt comforted. In her I finally found acceptance that I was searching for and somehow it gave me strength, strength to embrace myself as she had embraced me. This is the memoir of my sojourn through those long perpetual hours, an anecdote of my romance with those endless nights.