Mazes

We all have our secret mazes.
Winding corridors and never ending tunnels that lead everywhere and nowhere. Paths we circle,again and again.

Why am I so fat? Why can’t I make friends? Why can’t people like me for long? Why am I not good at anything? Why doesn’t he love me?

What is wrong with me?

Our little mazes,our little circles of hell.
We wake up each morning and try to navigate a new path.

This time it will be different.
You’re careful. You count your steps,you look out for markers. You look at yourself in the mirror and try to speak sense into yourself.
And then you do see that light at the end of the tunnel. You’re almost there,you’ve made the changes you should have and now you’re finally getting out.

And then you trip.
And skid.
And fall.

Why doesn’t anyone ask you how you feel,and actually care about the answer? Why can’t you let go of that guy who never really gave a damn?
Why can’t anyone ever stay?

Then it’s just you in the end. With your nagging doubts and gnawing anxieties,stumbling through the well worn maze.

Maybe you’ll see the light at the end of the tunnel again. Maybe you’ll reach it this time. 

Or maybe the maze just swallows everyone up whole.

Nayantara.

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