The weeds are moving in I survivefrom one call to the next. My days are some minutes long.

Rest of the time, I have darkness for company. The callers intrude into my space as and when they feel like. If I refuse them entry, they try incessantly till they are admitted. Once inside, they violate my space. Repeatedly. Completely. I feel hunted at all times. That’s not all. After having desecrated my home, it’s my innards they are after. My subconscious hallucinates between self pity and rage. I am at war with myself – with my absolute impotency. I am poked, provoked, jostled, roughed up, demeaned or sidelined. I am made to feel that my ‘No’ does not count. The more emphatically I say it, the more is the pressure brought in to pulverize me into submission. I do not submit and so I am broken. Every time. Stupidity cannot be matched by notions of decency and fair play. Every blow I take shatters me; every blow I return hollows me; every blow I ward off only increases the fury of my attackers. They have all the hours in the world to pursue me with but I am in a hurry to shake them off so that I can get back to my life. My wife. My child. My every minute wasted is an irreparable loss; my every moment spent in anguish is an unmitigated tragedy. They know this and they know that this is their hold on me. They have to only prove that I am not God to justify their wrongs. They have to only wait for me to create so that they can come in to destroy. They have to just be themselves to prevent me from being myself. Why am I under attack? Where did I make a mistake? What did I do to invite their wrath? These questions are meaningless. I was just happy –do you need anything more to invite trouble? My life is seeping away; pouring out of the holes they have punctured into me and I am startled by the definiteness of it all. Be happy and you are damned. It is so simple. But I am still clinging on to life - the life that I had managed to create for myself and for my family before the weeds out there decided to move in and suffocate us. Their advance is steady; their approach methodical; their aims diabolical. I am retreating step by step. But I am not giving up. It is not hope that keeps me going. It is the resolve that I won’t let the weeds cover me up till I am no more than just a name inscribed on an uncared - for grave. Will they prevail upon me is not the question. Question is –what and how much will I lose? Oh, dear Lord, please…please…not my home…not my family…not my soul. Please, God, that’s not asking for too much, is it? Is it?

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