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You tie knots around the inner linings of my ankle. You push me down underneath, everything I already see. You make me blind and silent. Cowardice and shy, an imposter and a rare oddity. You wrap these knotted chains of steel around my ankles and my wrists. You make my bare and naked body, feel every gut wrenching rip and tear of my own flesh. You tear me apart, you defy me at every turn. You don't want me to be noticed or recognized for what I stand for. You hold all the control and because of that I have no control. You're the puppet master and you're pulling on all my strings. You decide when I can let go, when I can unchain myself. I can stop being the anchor, when I can be fully clothed. Fully enraptured in the glory of what is mine and you want me to see me for what I really am. An anchor. An anchor that on cue, holds in place and doesn't disable. Or become incapable of holding still, an anchor that takes everything that is forced upon. An anchor to be walked upon, to live only in the eyes of what lies underneath. Not what is residing above the surface. An anchor that doesn't defy. That only listens and that is simple and uncomplicated. An anchor that resides at the very base of the sea. When the anchor forgets it's purpose, the anchor wants to believe it is something else. When the anchor does not agree with every forced decision placed upon them, the anchor wants freedom. Control, untainted love and to have an understanding. To not be told that one day, it'll "thank you" for all the shit you put it through. When the anchor wants to be left alone, the anchor is just done. It wants no more of this pushing down or pulling up, bestowed upon it. It just wants to be an anchor. It wants to remain at the base of the sea. Unbothered. Untouched. Unloved. Unlinked. Unacquainted. It just wants to be left. Forgotten. It wants no one or anyone to depend on it. To seek things from. To expect things from. To lust for things from. To be full of greed for. To be consumed in. The anchor just wants to be an anchor. Simple. Left undone. Left to be unbroken. I am the anchor. And I just want to go on being an anchor. Left to no longer exist above the surface where the world is always watching me. I just want to be an anchor and be done.

We humans often forget about the purpose of life. Life is like a song; it has ups & downs but it does not stop. It goes on and on and after a certain period, it stops for good. So ultimately you have only one song in your entire life but the content of your song is being written by you. This is how we are unique from one another. Here I am about writing my own song. And the main watchword of my song is Hope. Every day I hope to see the new sun which shines brighter than the previous one. But as the day passes by, I get to realize that the day is as dull as before. I question myself so often what is the point of my life? When I was a kid, I could not talk properly. While I got nervous, I started to stammer and could not express what I wanted to. Once I was participating in a science festival where I was presenting my project. A visitor came and told me to explain it then and there, I instantly got nervous and could not say a word in front of him. What a shame! That day I questioned myself about my worth, my ability; I felt so low. I dreamt to become a motivational speaker whereas I could not say a word in front of the stranger. I thought of it as a consequence of humiliation. Ever since, I vowed to myself that I would make a turnabout in my life. I started to practise more and more until I stopped hesitating to talk in the presence of people. I constructed it as a challenge for myself and I successfully overcame it. It gives me the urge to overcome all the problems and helps me find the solutions to every situation. But there was a time when I was in constant pain. It was more like a wicked perception which changed the meaning of my life, on the contrary you may call it depression. People often fall ill with depression, they lose themselves in the battlefield of living where living is the only reward. Mostly people often keep themselves occupied with physical check-up, they often overlook maintaining the mental health. They disregard the fact that our physical condition relies on our mental condition. I never support giving up. Many things are battling inside of my mind but I never learn to give up. Like after every night, the sun rises and lighten our world; our sufferings will pass away when the good days will arrive. As a final year grad student, things are really hard to decide in which plan I should stick in. Enormous responsibilities are forthcoming. I would be introduced with a whole new world. This feeling breaks me each time whenever I think of it. What if I fail to locate a fine good job? What if I disappoint my parents for not being what they want me to be? I am torn apart whenever I think of it. I will blame the society for creating the storm inside of me. It seems like this society nourishes negativity to raise us. It makes me wonder how the flowers have stopped to bloom. This negative wave turns the flowers into depressed souls. But one thing I want to ask the society keenly, “Did you ever think of preaching love instead of hatred?” Our life would be quite simpler and easier then. We should stop following the shadow that guides us towards darkness. Because I believe in Light. Life is tragic. Nothing goes on as per our expectation but still life goes on. We must overcome the negativity to make the world a better place. I have valid reasons to feel miserable. But this is also me who comprehend the situation as fixable. For this, the first and foremost work is to change the notion of the society. Nothing but spreading love of positivity can defeat it. Once when I was in class four, I got terribly sick. I was so dedicated to my study, so I could not even miss going to school. That very day, my body temperature got extremely high and suddenly I puked in front of the whole class. The situation was quite embarrassing, I almost cried for what just happened. My teachers helped me get clean but that day something worse happened. After getting cleaned up when I started to continue my lecture, nobody sat with me; not even my best friend. She stopped talking to me from the very day. I still don't know what was my fault. In which parameter she judged me, I don't know. Actually I don't want to know anymore. From that day, I decided to be humble to everyone. If you are being judged for the blames that you aren't responsible for, stop caring about it. Because life is wonderful. Life never stops to amaze you whether it is for good experience or bad. But never give up. There is a saying that the deeper the dark, the closer the dawn. Wait for the dawn. The dawn will arrive and take all the dark shadows from you.

Sometimes I wonder why I'm here, what my purpose is. I'm sure everybody gets these thoughts now and then, perhaps after making a monumental mistake or a gut-churning sacrifice which wasn't worth it. I like to think it's a natural thought to have sparingly, a reminder that there is always that one costly way out- Something which I personally take great comfort in. I think it ties in with a fear of failure or the dread of having to continue swimming through the darkness which suffocates my lungs and gurgles in my oesophagus. They hit me when I'm under the ocean, being dragged through the relentless currents. Keeping me up at night, cruel yet gently, they're an endless mirage of pounding hurdles which smack against the insides of my mind, telling me that it isn't worth it- They scream in an orchestra of falling angels through the white noise. Perhaps it isn't like this for anyone, perhaps some of you can ignore the trickling stream which flows through your mind. But for some of us, those of us who awake to exhaustion, no matter how much sleep they get- It's a bit more complicated than that. “Just one cut, that's all it would take.” “Why don't you drink the bottle? See what it does.” “You think the gas would suffocate you?” “Put your hand on the flame, watch it dance.” Some of you probably find those thoughts disturbing, some of you probably think I should receive help, some of you are probably even wondering why I don't just do it then if it bothers me so much. Well, let me explain then. Throughout my life, I haven't been the happiest camper. Growing up, my childhood was quite difficult, hence why my problems sprouted into bitter aconite from there- The poison thick and deadly in my daily life. With an alcoholic father who couldn't see until it was the end of a bottle and a depressed mother… You could say that it is no surprise that I have developed a pick and mix bag filled with issues. They weren't the best role models out there, social-services were involved more than once. What made them different, however, was that my mum tried- Does try. She tries her hardest to be both guardians at once, with her broken wings and rusted halo. She does what she can with what she has, even if it isn't much. Despite everything which has happened to us, the deaths and illnesses which has knocked on our door, she remains strong for us. Every morning, she gets up to make us our breakfast. Every evening, she makes the kids their supper and then sends them to bed- But, every so often, when she's left alone with her corruptive thoughts which decay her mind- She cries. She cries and she cries until hiccupping breaths are the only things which escape through her clenched teeth. Her eyebrows flatten, her eyes die in a new life, and she's left bottomless, without a goal in sight. It kills me to see it, rips open my insides and pulls my heart from my chest to feast on it with sharp teeth- But there's nothing I can do to help her because I understand. As she sobs over her wine bottle, tears creating angry, red rivers down her face- I understand. I understand more than I would even like to. Therefore, I never enter, never show her that I've seen her sobbing. This is her time to grieve, her time to mourn the potential that she lost, the boyfriends which she has loved and the family which she has raised and failed. So, when you ask why I don't just go through with it, why I don't just bring a knife to my throat and bleed out into the carpet- Let me tell you why. It is because of this beautifully ruined woman that I don't go through with those thoughts. She isn't my rock, my foundation. In fact, she's far from that. If anything, she's an old, dilapidated house, just waiting for that one rush of wind which will cause all her structure to collapse. Her mask is the peeling wallpaper, her mind the abandoned attic which no one bothers to visit- However, she is my mother. She is my wonderful, kind, sacrificing mother, and I refuse to put that on her delicate shoulders. She is the person who noticed my severe weight loss and took me to the doctors. She is the one who noticed the deep, gorged outlines of scarlet which skewered their way through my veins. She is the only person who noticed how far my mental state had deteriorated, leaving but a lonely, empty husk of the daughter she once you. She is the one who has had to watch her daughter lose herself every day, with red-rimmed eyes and hollowed cheeks- So, that's why I remain. I may serve no purpose. My existence may be completely pointless and short- But there is one person in this entire world who cares for me, who gives me the courage to live through another day. She gives me the bravery to feel little moments of happiness, despite how haunting they may be- And that's all I could ever ask for.

PROLOGUE: Earth represents the only planet known to support life. Such a manifestation, preposition and supposition (challenged as sophisticated telescopes peer into the farther reaches of the cosmos), nonetheless amazes this bipedal hominid. Additionally, that conjecture (undergoing securitization re: painstakingly now major leapfrogs kicked jarring impetus hundredfold greater futuristic established dogma) consider that said oblate spheroid constituent essential matter near in composition sans other planets in our solar system, and coalesced at approximately when sister and brother entities manifested through the same ethereal processes as every other planet, and also received energy (in a greater or lesser proportion) extant per those most distant or closest cosmic bodies from the sun. To a universal traveler, Earth may seem to be a harmless little planet in the far reaches of one of billions of spiral galaxies in the universe. Gaia describes an elliptical trajectory across an average size star of middling brightness and joined by seven other planets, which support no known recognizable life forms constituting the solar system. While this may be fitting for a passage from numerous prequels and sequel Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy (among other entertaining out of this world page turners for estranged mortals feeling like outliers in this alien nation), by the late Douglas Adams, in the grand scheme of the universe, it would be a fairly accurate description. However, Earth is a planet teeming with vitality and is home billions of plants and animals that share a common evolutionary track. Eve ver since time immemorial innumerable questions furrowed the brow of man/woman kind such as the following. evidence may have been lost. Scientists have made significant progress in understanding what chemical processes that may have led to the origins of life. There are many theories, but most have the same general perspective of how things came to be the way random quirky phenomena overtook numbers (millions) linkedin kinetic jinxed illustrious happenings. An account of life's beginnings based on some of the leading research and theories related to the subject, and of course, fossil records dating back as far as 3.5 billion years ago designating the scientifically acceptable denouement viz Earth's Beginnings would be an infinite tome. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Never in my cow well LIX anniversaries of birth did I ever experience such an unseasonably warm February, March, April...September 018 (i.e. the date this anonymous mortal jotted down the musings peppering his inquisitive mind). Now my bio hazmat poise zen gruff feed dee doth Buzz with an apropos diversion, whence a short written interjection will proffer broad leafed brushstrokes qua lee fie ying yours truly to draw inquisitive onlookers. Matthew Scott Harris (the second offspring and only son of Boyce and the late Harriet Harris) made his unheralded debut on a brutally cold January thirteenth when Earth completed one thousand nine hundred and fifty ninth orbitz round the sun. Once awareness blossomed within thee Iris of each eye, Mother Nature with his proclivity to become most grounded when basking in the seasonal pastel of sounds and smells.This predilection a rose and stemmed from self-propelled exposure to fauna and flora. All creatures great and small found him bedazzled, delighted, fixated, harmonized, kindled, moored, ogled, quelled, seduced, tantalized, vaunted from biodiversity. His father - employed as a mechanical engineer with general electric - heard the powerful lungs of this gangly newborn prior to being permitted to cradle said infant nada so terrible. Though born (agh gin in Cincinnati, Ohio), this sole son spent the majority of his existence at two rural areas fifty plus four years ago. Audubon and Collegeville the geographic names of said locales. He attended first at half of second grade at an elementary school in the former place name. His ability to adjust from one than another grade school evinced early signs of difficulty. Extreme shyness in tandem with a congenital speech defect (submucous cleft palate) seemed to alienate him from other classmates. As an outside neutral observer, I (thine older - boot not necessarily wiser self - watched with gut wrenching agony how he seemed socially detached and rarely invited to join in any reindeer games.Yes, a gross degree of taunting left him without friends. Lack of confidence and ultra reticence offered manna to bullies. Matter of fact, this vulnerability and susceptibility per being on the receiving end of verbal slings continued all thru public education. He graduated without any vocational idea (despite an ignoble attempt to fail, yet got promoted nonetheless), and then endured parental wrath equal parts ultimatums and evil scathing expletive filled lectures.