I would have lived longer

A Story by Farhan Shaikh

It's all fiction

I Would Have Lived Longer

I would have lived longer, if they would not have given that knife it's power to kill me. I would have lived longer, if they'd have understood that the trash sometimes they speak hurts and does not go to the dump. I was Just like every other, same face, same cheeks and same nose that everybody carries on their body. But one Disability.
I was sick 'Cause of my thoughts that were deeper than the colour of the night sky. I spoke truth that they all shielded themselves against. I was 21 if I were a day. At the age where everybody strive for a deeper dive, the age where in the sea of people chasing the earns, I was paddling alone to learn. But this is what I believed and the world does not walk the way we want it to. It shakes you upon, it stumble and sway in front of you, it crumbles and it grumbles.
Just like most of you, the wings on my shoulder blade were still un-grown to take a flight. So under the soil of responsibilities I buried the bones of my desires. Drank the well that gathered in my eyes and moved on. For a long time I walked with the heavy pockets of my jeans and had the dreams locked in my heart.
Now that you should know, dreams does not die or get crushed beneath the leather boots you buy with the money you don’t like to earn in the manner you do. They tend to get bigger. So my heart was heavy too and not only just with dreams but with something we call Pain! The ache have sheltered themselves and sang their songs in every beat.
Every once or twice, I have been reminded my errors and the mistakes I have made were clocking out their heads. Now the wings had stopped growing, not because I could not take a flight now, but because I have settled for the crawls. It’s not that I wasn’t strong, ‘Cause I was. Only the thought of getting weaker everyday had broken the ribs of my strength.
If only they had right eyes to see the invisible hands of people were tightening around my neck. I was Tucked! under the burdens of being perfect and Pulled! By the excessive gravity of maintaining my reputation. Sleeps failed and the night went grey and to see the colourful mornings I had gone colour-blind. The shadows had stretched themselves on my walls and fire in the hearth was not warm enough to burn out the cold inside me.
I hissed helps and kissed the flaws of cruelty. I hugged the thorns and slept with demons who looked like me, who diced out the days of my life and added in theirs. They took me in my kitchen and have me grabbed their favourite knife, the shine of the blade were dancing on the edge and were blinding my eyes.
I’d rather prefer the necklace of ropes. But the smell of the knife was sweet and I was willing to taste the death. I spared my mistakes for those who always ran back their fingers upon them. The errors which mattered to them. It would be good if they bury me where I buried my dreams and desires. But would they?
The demons stood in pack and smiled, they wore my faces and rented my smile. In that moment I wished if I was the monster they thought I was. My hands clenched Shank! and the blood dried the thirst of my mouth. Shank! Shank! The knives sunk deeper and deeper until my life peeked out of the holes they Created. My demons moved, but I didn’t, the knife fell out of my hands was the last thing I felt.
@Farhan Shyk