I gave up not only once or twice. I gave up more than I could count.
I wake up during afternoon. And the first battle my mind continuously fought with is this thought, “I feel hungry. But ‘why’ should I eat?”
It is the central question of my existential crisis. It’s really hard and I know I need help so I look for it, I ask for help. But at times even those “help” do no good; rather it pours oil to the fire. I became emptier. I immediately recognize this crisis the moment I realize that I have no appetite.
For a long time, I don’t look forward on eating. It becomes like a tiresome maintenance. When I don’t want to eat, I force myself to eat. Simply because I have to live; even if living feels empty to me. I know, I am dead deep inside.
But worry not; I am not suicidal because of my faith. Have I not believe in God, I might have taken my own life now. Since I believe it’s wrong to take one’s life, there