Solid Air

The nameless man was in a small 10x10 bedroom, that for him felt like 5x5 mentally. The rest of the house, felt pure greyness. With only dim lights; he was in a dejected position on his uncomfortable couch that was deep in sorrow. It was as if breathing had become a chore to him; every breath was a struggle as if the air around him had turned stiff and was holding him down, crushing out all happiness from him.

Most of the times it was quite difficult to differentiate between the day and the night, as he continued to go through the mundane routine of his life. The weight of his depression had now become his very identity, and with each second he fell deeper into the pit.

Picture a single saxophone at a deserted jazz concert, when it sounds a sorrowful note in the large hall, that note reverberates with the loneliness and the longing of the destitute soul in the blackness. Every unhappy note performed by the double bass falls as a gloomy harmony on the soul, and the bass symbolizes a heave enshrouded despair found in the essence in a metaphoric yet realistic manner. The sad pierce of the saxophone runs into the symphony, its dirge-like tune proving of the rigours of torment and the yearn for redemption.

The music of the orchestra of depression lies at the deep bottom of desolation: the strings are down hearted with the tune of the despair, and the delicate vibrations hint at the frailty of the hope against the despair. The dun percussion brings out a melancholic tempo similar to the relentless ticking of a clock in a black and white world. And at the center of it all, there lies the piano, its keys echoing the disturbing major and the longing of hearts with no recollection of the past but the longing of the tomorrow which never comes.

Hence, the chorus of despair amplifies in volume and intensity, reaching the pinnacle of the depths of one’s spirit. A melody, a chord, each accompanies the melancholy experienced, like the embrace of the heart that conceals the emptiness within. As an umbrella for the melody of suffering, the pain is felt and shared, but never stated in words; or rather, sung as a cry for the buried agony that can reach inside of people.

The nameless man was was staring out through the rain-streaked window. Out here, he had nothing left in his heart, soul, and body – the strains of the difficulties and the challenges of life had just gotten the better of him.

But as he sat there all ready to just surrender, a spark of fight rose up in him. He took a deep breath, and nervously knocked on his mother’s door. Each knock had a band calling inside the emptiness of his spirit.

Feeling her hands burning she slowly opened the door, “Are you alright?” This time it was slightly unsure.

“Mom,” he croaked, hardly able to form the word it was so much filled with emotion. “I’m not.”

For a second, all that could be heard was the warm rush of air escaping through their lips – the air that was once shared in laughter, grief and everything in between, instantly he came into words and emotion, he told her everything he was fighting, the doubts he had, and the things he wished he had done differently. And in that vulnerable moment, something changed inside of him in some indefinable way.

In a decision perhaps only possible when the overwhelming pain is washed away by the rain that falls outside, the nameless man decided. He decided to wait for a day more and open tomorrow facing the uncertainty with new vigor and with a glimmer of hope. There, he made his decision to fight for his second chance.

Sometimes, it may be pointed out, life gives us the greatest opportunity to take control of the events that have happened, and re-write the story of one’s life with the help of the strength and the love. And so, the nameless man waited, not for the end, but for a new beginning, where all these tomorrows will be a new hope, a new opportunity to be healed.

Maybe, wait just one more day.

♡ Thank You For Reading ♡