mental health

Why I don’t go out with friends

On Friday,I remember going to small Italian cafe at odd noon hours with you. It was after our math class that we decided to have a quick bite before heading home. And the plan of quick bite soon expanded into having pastas and a latte later. We sat on that small side table for almost two hours chatting over a plate of casserole and pasta with olives.
I remember you telling me how much you love olives and peppers and that hot cheddar always burn sides of your mouth. The smell of your mild yet overpowering cologne seem so familiar to me. And why not, I whiff it for atleast four days a week without fail. And as we dwelled deep into our conversation,you asked me what I am doing this weekend,and before I could answer,you propose to make a movie plan with our other girlfriends. I so wanted to resist but then your eyes tempted me to utter a hushed yes.
And after getting back home,while I twisted on my spring mattress,a sudden warmth of blood flooded my cerebrum making me regret the decision. Instantly, I decided to text you that I can not make it tomorrow but my phone already had notification of 29 pending messages from our WhatsApp group.
Those messages dripping awe and friendships,haunted me like werewolves and I clinched my fur blanket close until I dozed off,only to wake up by your call in the night informing about the change in plan and now we’re meeting for lunch after which five of us will go for shopping,but then I knew this was it, I can not do this, so I feigned back ache and you hung up saying you won’t make plans with me ever again and that I always ditch.
No, I am not a mean friend. I do enjoy my time with you people but how am I to tell you,I have social anxiety and bipolar disorder. I can’t. You will probably disown me or worse you would cut me off saying I am overthinking, just like my mom did when I confronted her about my brain sickness.
I often make excuses of ill health and people give sympathetic looks laced with suggestions of trying yoga and going for naturopathy to strengthen my immune. Little do they know I am not sick but my brain is.
Why is it socially unacceptable being brain sick?
Why mental health is never a concern?
Why people don’t believe me when I talk about this whisper in my head that is making me go deaf each passing day?
Were my mom not to hug me and say soothing things than cutting me off?
Were you not to clutch my hand tight and read me Margret Mitchell when I declined the plan than calling me mean?
I do love the smell of lilacs planted in your backyard,I love to play with little jenny living on ground floor, the smell of your cologne and salted popcorn of PVR is love.
But for now all I need is a warm hug and a little acceptance.

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