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He woke up in a dark room. No, it wasn't an unknown place, certainly not a kidnapping, it was his own room, it's just that he wasn't lucky enough to be able to afford sunlight, so it was always dark and cold in his room. Everything was a blank, his head was pounding, he tried to remember the date, nothing came to his mind, his stomach was churning, he felt nauseous,
all he felt was hunger, he hadn't eaten for two days. He tried to get up, but his body refused to, his vision was slowly blurring, his thoughts were going numb, all that was left was a craving for food, the weakness of a tired soul, and an extreme loathing for himself. Everything melted into the darkness that was taking on his numbed thoughts. All that was left was a pitch dark void and feelings of agony, and then there was nothing. He woke up with a jolt. He tried to feel himself; he was on the now. Gathering all his strength he gave a jolt try to get up.
He somehow got up on his feet and forced his trembling legs to hold him straight, he slowly felt his way through his dark room lit only by a single ray of sunlight and went to his table. There it was, the lighter that he had kept as a memento for giving up smoking a year ago, and a single cigarette beside it. Ankita knew what he was going through when they last met and
had offered him the cigarette trying to take his mind o of the situation. He had accepted the cigarette but couldn't bring himself to have it. It was the only stick that he had now. He was trembling too much and was losing balance, he somehow slouched on the chair kept in front of the desk, and sank in it. Suddenly he felt his cheeks were damp, he smiled to himself. So it really was the time to cry, the man who hadn't shed a single tear through all the tragedies
that had happened to him, whom his friend considered to be some heartless devil was crying in his sleep, he sank down further as he smiled to himself, softly, with a drop of insanity hanging on the edge of his lip. He got up as he felt a bit more stable. He walked out of his room into the corridor, through the stairs that slowly took him to the roof, where he had had so many of his best moments. The mid-June sunburnt his skin, the hot or scorched his feet, but to him it still felt nice. He took out the cigarette and lit it. It took him a minute, he looked down the edge of the roof, the view was nice here, a sixth storey roof always felt like the top of the world. He stood on the edge, the parapet was very low but he always liked this low parapet, it always reminded him of how long he had come, how insignificant the world that felt so big had become. He took another pull. The low parapet had always bothered his mom and girlfriend, he had always joked that suicide wasn't something that he'd consider as it would
cause pain to a lot of people. The cigarette was burning out, the smoke winding around his body wrapping him like a thin smokey thread, he gave a long puff, put out the cigarette butt, and vanished o the edge of the roof. All that remained was a cigarette butt and a note thanking someone for the cigarette and saying:
"I belong nowhere, nobody belongs to me."
Fantastic writing and worth reading